


Advanced Physicality - In Three Parts

by shaenie



Series: Adapting to Physicality [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub, Impact Play, M/M, Multi, Team, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 16:48:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 83,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7692106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaenie/pseuds/shaenie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>a long-ass chapter, beware!</p>
          </blockquote>





	1. Advanced Physicality - Part One

Bruce wakes up with a warm weight pressing down on his right side and his arms and legs still completely immobile. He doesn’t know what time of the day it is, only that his internal alarm clock hadn’t shaken him awake at the usual time. Tony’s hand is curled on his chest, and his head is resting on a pillow that’s resting atop of Bruce’s right arm. Bruce flexes his hands and finds them fully functional, no pins and needles or even stiffness. He hurts all over in such a fantastic way that it’s enough to send him spinning down into submissive headspace with no other outside stimuli.

He can smell the heady scent of sex still lingering in the room, and he smiles a little at it. His muscles are a dense ache but his head seems shockingly clear, and the ache in his muscles does nothing to forestall the ache of desire pooling in his groin and lower belly. 

Tony’s thigh is thrown over one of Bruce’s thighs, and his skin is warm and welcome.

A bright flash of satisfaction etches its way across the forefront of Bruce’s mind at the weight of his collar resting against his throat.

It has been years since Bruce had awakened feeling this good, this easy and relaxed and he lets himself wallow in it without even the slightest hint of guilt.

He does, however, have to go to the bathroom rather pressingly.

“Tony,” he murmurs, half unwilling to wake him, but not having a lot of choice in the matter. He’s seen Tony just awakened before, and is prepared for groggy and possibly cranky, but Tony’s head snaps up and his eyes are completely clear and focused, concern already creasing his brow. “I just have to use the bathroom,” Bruce says quickly, and Tony’s expression eases into sleepy amusement, his lips quirked into a half-smile that is so sweet that Bruce’s headspace swims a little at seeing it.

“Time, Jarvis?” Tony asks, voice a little morning rough.

“It is 9:24 a.m., sir,” Jarvis answers immediately.

Tony rubs a hand across his face and then says, “It’s Saturday isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” Jarvis says, that low-grade nearly undetectable undercurrent of amusement that Bruce still hasn’t figured out if is truly there, or a product of Bruce anthropomorphizing Tony’s A.I.

Tony shifts up to one elbow and kisses Bruce’s right temple, and then gets to his knees and unbuckles the restraints around his wrists, then moves down to free his ankles as well. He runs the tips of his fingers up the insides of Bruce’s thighs as he moves back up the bed, and Bruce shivers.

“Go on,” Tony says. “Don’t bother with knees.”

Bruce stretches carefully, feeling the pull and burn and ache and quietly revelling in it, and then rolls onto his side and off the bed onto his feet, and goes to the bathroom. He isn’t surprised when Tony follows him, and it doesn’t trigger an attack of shy bladder, so he chalks it up to one of Tony’s many eccentricities, and takes care of business. Tony apparently doesn’t have any kind of shy bladder problems either, as Bruce moves to the sink to wash his hands, Tony takes his place and takes care of his own business.

Bruce takes a little longer washing his hands than is strictly necessary, as he spends several seconds with his gaze wandering down the marks on the front of his body in the mirror behind the sink. The welts have mostly faded, but there are some lines of bruising still evident, and his cock grows heavy at the sight of them. He supposes it’s a good thing he can’t see his back, though his back actually isn’t hurting him much. His ass is still tender, still bruised, a little, he’s pretty sure, but his back feels alright.

“Do you know what shouldn’t be sexy about you?” Tony asks, as he flushes the toilet and washes his hands, and then circles around Bruce to open a drawer full of unopened toothbrushes and hands him one. Bruce takes it, a little bemused at the sheer number of unopened toothbrushes in the drawer. 

“What?”

“The gray in your pubes,” Tony says, and reaches around Bruce’s waist to rake his fingers through the nearly black and silver thatch of Bruce’s pubic hair. “That shouldn’t be something that turns me on. I can’t even articulate why it’s a thing that turns me on.” He leans forward into Bruce, and Bruce leans back against Tony’s chest, his back barely even tender. It’s either lean back against Tony or bend over the counter, and he’s pretty sure Tony isn’t trying to get him bent over the counter, since he’s still tangling his fingers into Bruce’s pubes.

“Can’t help you with that one,” Bruce says, only a little breathless at having Tony handle him so thoughtlessly possessively. “I was still an undergrad when they started to go gray. I have more gray in my pubes than I have on my head.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Tony says, tugging gently once. Bruce’s cock, predictably, stands up at attention at Tony’s hands on his body, and Tony slaps it playfully, not at all painfully. “And I didn’t expect you to be so broad,” Tony continues, his eyes going up to the mirror to flicker across Bruce’s chest. “I can’t think why. After you transform back to yourself from the Hulk, you’re always stark naked, so it’s not like I haven’t seen you. I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you naked in close comparison to me naked. And you’ve got some serious arm muscle. I know you work out some, do yoga, all that new age crap, but do you lift? Here, flex for me?”

Bruce puts his unopened toothbrush down and flexes his right arm for Tony, watching with interest as Tony runs his fingertips along the curve of his bicep and then all the way down to his wrist. “You’re maybe not stronger than I am, considering that I get all my muscle from working on the armor, but you’re bigger than I am.” He glances up in the mirror and meets Bruce’s gaze. “That’s hot, by the way.”

“Glad to hear it,” Bruce says, and really is glad to hear it.

“And I knew you were hairy, but.” He runs fingertips through Bruce’s chest hair, which is only lightly sprinkled with silver. “I’ve never had a type. I’ve always been good with almost all types. Big guys, small guys, slim girls, voluptuous girls, and all points between. But I’ve been looking at you for so long that I can hardly look at anyone else without comparing them to you, so I guess you’re my type now.” His face goes just a little ruddy at the comment, like maybe he hadn’t meant to say it so openly, but he doesn’t look away from Bruce.

“Then I’m lucky,” Bruce says, and turns a little to press the side of his hip against Tony’s hip. “I want to be your type. I want to be all of what you want.”

“And you say that so easily,” Tony marvels, and smooths a hand down Bruce’s marked chest, making him inhale sharply. “If I didn’t know it had been years for you, I wouldn’t believe it. You do it all so naturally.”

“You make it easy,” Bruce tries to explain. “You don’t expect me to do anything or be anything that I’m not already, and that makes it easy. And you’ve already given me permission to react however it feels right to react. Tony.” Bruce pauses and then turns around and slings his arms around Tony’s shoulders. His chest rubs against the ridges of the arc reactor, sending a little tremor of pleasure-pain reaction through him, but he ignores it for the moment. “You took me out there for them to see me,” he says.

Tony tips his head back, looking just the faintest bit leery.

Bruce smiles, “No, I’m glad you did, I wanted you to. But what I mean to say, is that when I was so far down that I would have even if I hadn’t wanted to, you did what you wanted to do for you, and trusted that I would tell you if I couldn’t, or wasn’t ready. I have never had a dominant who I would have trusted to make that call. And granted, I never had a permanent dominant, but there were a few I saw more than occasionally, that I _thought_ I more or less trusted, but it turns out that what I felt for them doesn’t compare in the least to what I feel for you. I feel like I can tell you things. That’s almost more important to me than the rest. Feeling like my thoughts are safe with you, not just my body.”

Tony slips a hand through Bruce’s hair, and is smiling, small and pleased. “So you remember all of that part clearly?” he asks. “Inviting them to touch you. Steve drawing you? Steve holding you down? Throwing yourself into Steve’s arms?”

“Yes,” Bruce says, and feels his own cheeks heating up a little. “I remember everything. Well. I was most sincerely deep into subspace while Steve was drawing me, so that part is just a pleasant kind of blur, but I still remember it. I couldn’t tell you how long it lasted exactly, but I was aware the whole time.”

“You wanted to touch Steve after,” Tony says. “Why?”

“He… him holding me down was good, and that he was willing to do it was good, and none of it felt bad, but the important part of that was that it felt… steady. It felt like he wasn’t going to let go, not just then, but not ever. That any time I needed him to hold me down he would be willing. That’s the part that I can’t be sure of in my mind. That the rest of them, that all of them will all still be here. That they want me to be here. That they wouldn’t let me go even if I tried. That’s what Steve gave me. The feeling that he wouldn’t let me go even if I got spooked and tried. And I wanted to touch him, to have him… have his arms around me, to thank him, for helping me to feel like that. I’m not sure I’m making any sense,” Bruce admits.

“No, you’re making perfect sense, and this is important for me to know, Bruce. We may have to take them one at a time, if that’s what you need, or maybe no more than two, but it’s trust in their place in your life and your place in theirs that you need. Not fear of being touched, but fear of being touched and then let go.” Tony strokes his hand through Bruce’s unruly hair again. “I’m never going to let you go,” he says, serious and rough, looking right into Bruce’s eyes. “I’ve never collared anyone in my life, I’ve never wanted to, and I’ve wanted to collar you since almost the very beginning. I want you to be mine, but I want you to be theirs, too. I want you be mine first, because I’m greedy and selfish, but I want you to be theirs, too, because I also want what is good for you and for them, and this will be good for you and for them.” He gives Bruce a long solemn look. “Do you remember what I said to you about not going to bed with any of them without my permission?”

Bruce nods, his cheeks heating a little again. 

“I take it back,” Tony says.

Bruce feels his mouth fall open a little, feels his eyes go wide, and has no idea how to respond to that.

“If you think you can, and you want to, then you have free rein with the team, Bruce. I still want you in bed with me at night, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t spend so much time fucking around with them that you’re too tired to fuck around with me, but if you want it and you think you can with any one of them, you have carte blanche.” Tony tugs gently at his hair. “I don’t want you to miss the moment when you could have connected with one of them the way you connected with Steve because I’ve put limitations on your behavior with them. You can tell them, or not tell them. Or I’ll tell them if you want me to. But I’m… I’m possessive, Bruce, but I’m not jealous of a single person in the Avengers. I’m not worried that any of them will ever do anything to try to undermine what you and I already have. So it wasn’t fair of me to tell you no. It was a knee jerk thing. And definitely no to any strangers. But I said it because when I’m in a relationship with someone, it’s always been one of my rules. But you don’t need that rule. You wouldn’t be fucking around on me. You’d be trying to establish a stable relationship with one of them, and however you can do that is okay with me. Are you clear on what I’m saying?”

“Yes,” Bruce says, sounding a little stunned to his own ears. “Are you sure, Tony? I… I’m not sure I even could do anything without you there with me, I don’t know if I can make that reach without your guidance and the security of having you there, but if it turns out differently, it’s not worth it to me to damage my relationship with you.”

“It won’t damage our relationship,” Tony says, sounding certain, looking solemn. “I trust you completely. And I love you, Bruce. I want you to build relationships with the rest of our… our family. Whatever kinds of relationships you want. They don’t have to be sexual. But I want you to feel like any one of us would hold you and keep you, that none of us would be better off if you were gone, and if that happens through sex, that’s okay with me.” He chuckles. “It’s not like I haven’t had sex with all of them, after all,” he says. “Why shouldn’t you get the same privileges?”

Bruce blinks, throat feeling a little tight for a moment, a little overwhelmed at the amount of trust Tony is granting him. “I love you,” he says. “I don’t know yet how I am going to grow… into the relationship you all have with each other. But I won’t rule anything out. If sex seems appropriate, if it feels like the right thing, I’ll try to go with it, but I’m genuinely not sure if I can be that kind of intimate with any of them without you there to balance me. I’ll try if you want me to, but I don’t know if I can.”

“That’s not what I’m telling you,” Tony says, and tugs a little less playfully at his hair. “I’m not telling you ‘go forth and fuck them all!’ I’m telling you that if the situation comes up and I’m not there to ask, but it still feels right to you, then you have my blessing. Not just my blessing, but my explicit approval. Make friends with any or all of them in whatever way works for you, Bruce, and if that includes sex, that’s fine with me. I’ll want to hear all about it, and obviously I’d love to be present because you’re all supermodel levels of gorgeous, but all that matters is that you do what feels like it will work for you. Do you understand?”

Bruce nods. “I really want to brush my teeth now because I want to kiss you, but first I have to ask you, because I can’t quite keep my curiosity in check, but you and… Coulson?”

Tony grins wickedly. “I’m a dominant and a sadist, but nobody wants the same thing all the time, no matter how much you like it. And yeah, when Coulson made an overture, I was intrigued enough to take him up on it.”

“ _Coulson_ asked you?” Bruce asks, because aside from Coulson’s behavior last night, Coulson has always been the least demanding member of the team as far as Bruce can tell.

“Yeah, not long after he realized I was sleeping with Steve, and then further realized that I was domming Steve. He wanted Steve, really, but I think he felt like he needed to demonstrate to me what he had to offer Steve before he could outright step in and ask. So he asked me if I was exclusively a top, and I told him I tended toward dominance and sadism, but I wasn’t exclusively anything, that I never say never, and that was the first time I saw him with his dominant expression on. He looked a little surprised. Like he had asked for Steve, but that he might actually want to see if I really meant that I never say never. He’s a beast, Bruce. You’ll adore him, if things work out that way. I didn’t sit down for three days.” Tony chuckles. “I thought Steve was going to try to defend my honor when he saw me when I came back from subbing for Coulson. He had this look on his face, like he was about to do something that went against his instincts, but that he felt like had to be done anyway. I had to talk him down.”

Bruce can picture that expression on Steve’s face clearly, and smiles a little. “But I take it that Steve got over it? He and Coulson seem pretty good now.”

“Steve got over it the first time Coulson took him to bed.” Tony shakes his head. “Honestly, even if I weren’t going to share you with anyone else, Bruce, I think I’d give Coulson a shot at you.” He smirks a little. “No one else here has your level of pain kinks, not even Barton, and while Thor will take a beating for you if you’re hard up and need to release some pent up energy, he can take it because he’s a god, and he doesn’t really get off on it. Mild pain kinks, but Thor is probably the most normal one of us there is, which is pretty funny, considering he’s the alien. Aside from his voyeurism kink, that is. He wants to see everything.”

“And Natasha?” Bruce asks, fascinated.

“Is mostly a top, though she’s pretty comfortable with sex just for the sake of having sex, too, just vanilla sex. She… in case you hadn’t noticed this, but she and Pepper have a thing going on. I am honestly not sure there is any kink involved in it at all. I think they’re just hooking up because they’re the only girls that are here all the time.” Tony shrugs. “But otherwise Pepper isn’t mixed up with the rest of the team. Though if she makes a move on you, she is also one of the people you have free reign with. Jane sticks with Thor, though she likes to watch other people, too. I think she’s just shy and in love. If she ever came and stayed at the tower for a few months, things might be a little different, but mostly she just shows up for weekends. She knows about the superhero dogpile, and doesn’t seem to have a problem with Thor being part of it. Darcy, though, will want a chance at you. She’s a switch, wicked little thing, very unpredictable. I’d suggest you wait on her until you feel a little steadier with everyone else.” Tony gives him a long look, and then shakes his head. “And I’d stay away from Rhodey. He isn’t really a part of this anyway, even though he’s done some stuff, been around for other stuff, but he’s a romantic, and you’re his type. He’s bi, but is mostly into women, but when he falls for a guy, it’s always really really hard, and I always have to put him back together after. You might want to avoid ending up in bed with Rhodey.”

“I like Pepper a lot, but I’m not really attracted to her. There is something fragile about her that makes me feel more protective of her than attracted to her. That may be me totally misjudging her, but that’s just how it feels. Rhodey is a nice guy, but I don’t really think of him as part of the team. He isn’t part of the group that is keeping me here. Jane I don’t know well enough to have an opinion about. Darcy might be fun, but she’s also not part of the group of people that keep me here. Might be fun to have you and Darcy, though. I’d like to fuck someone, Tony.” Bruce’s cheeks blaze with heat, but he plows ahead anyway. “I’m a sub, but I do have a cock, and I like to use it.”

“Anyone in particular?” Tony asks, grinning a little at Bruce’s blush.

“You, if you’ll let me. You’re at the top of the list. Steve.” Bruce pauses and thinks about it for a long moment. “I can’t tell you other than that. I don’t quite have a sexual frame of reference for the rest of them.” He isn’t sure that makes sense, but Tony is nodding.

“Not even after last night, when they all touched you while you were deeply subby?” he asks.

Bruce feels his cheeks heat again. “I was too subby to be thinking about what it would be like to fuck any of them,” he says awkwardly. “It was all about them touching me, and I don’t know if it will stay that way when I’m not in the same kind of headspace.”

“Gotcha,” Tony says, and picks up Bruce’s unopened toothbrush and pops it out of its package. “Brush your teeth. I’m going to get in the shower. I want to oil your chest before you shower, so just wait for me if I’m not done by the time you are. You can fold out the table and get it ready. Maybe go through the scents I’ve got and pick something out.”

“Sure,” Bruce says, and accepts the toothbrush, which is hot pink. “Wait for me to brush my teeth before you get in the shower?” he asks. “I want to kiss you.”

Tony grins. “Of course,” he agrees, and then reaches into the enormous shower and retrieves his own toothbrush from a cup. They stand side by side at the double sinks in Tony’s bathroom and brush their teeth. Tony offers Bruce a packet of floss, and Bruce takes it absently, and is halfway through flossing when he realizes that he hasn’t flossed in front of anyone else in so many years he isn’t sure how long it’s actually been, and that in an odd way, it’s almost more intimate than the conversation they had just had. When the toothbrushes and floss are put away, Tony turns to Bruce and runs his short nails down the bruises on Bruce’s chest, and Bruce shivers with pleasant little jolts of pain. “Have you checked out your bruises?” Tony asks.

“On my arms,” Bruce says, and holds out his arms, showing the straight lines of bruises running down the undersides of each of them. 

“Check your thighs, too,” Tony suggests. Bruce turns toward the mirror and raises a leg and is a little shocked to see the dark purple lines running down the insides of his thigh. He runs one finger across them lightly, then a little harder, and his cock, which had been semi-erect for the entire conversation, starts to rise up to full mast. 

“These hurt like crazy,” Bruce says, surprised and pleased at once, and Tony laughs.

“I’m going to lay welts across them in an X pattern tonight, if you’re feeling up to it,” he says, and then cups a hand around Bruce’s jaw and tugs him in close, one hand buried in Bruce’s hair as he drags him into a deeply dirty, extremely pushy kiss.

“Uh, yeah,” Bruce says, when Tony pulls back, and he can see the smug satisfaction in Tony’s eyes at Bruce’s reaction to the kiss, but is too dazed from it to feel irritated at Tony’s smugness. It had been a good kiss. Tony probably deserves some smugness.

“Okay, go set up the massage table. I won’t be long in the shower.” Tony turns him by his shoulders and pushes him toward the room with the linens and the massage table in it. Bruce’s feet stumble into an inelegant walk, before he manages to get back some of his natural grace, and he makes it into the massage room without tripping or bumping into anything. He folds out the table and lays towels across it the way that Tony had had them the last time, and then he sits -- his ass is definitely only mildly bruised now, and all of the welts have faded -- on the edge of the table and thinks about whether or not he wants to have sex with the entire team.

His first response to the idea is a twisting kind of uncertainty that isn’t even lack of trust -- he trusts all of them -- but is more along the lines of feeling like he isn’t sure they would even want to go to bed with him. Then he thinks about their hands on him last night, and their hot eyes, and he forces his shoulders to relax and really thinks about it. What it might be like to be able to fold his way into their bodies on movie nights, what it would mean to be able to touch them casually, and know for sure that they wouldn’t pull back from him because of what he is. He thinks about Steve’s hands biting into his flesh as he held down Bruce’s knee, and his cock, still hard, jerks a little at the memory of it, the way Steve had looked doing it. It’s hard, though, hard to get his head around the idea of being able to touch them all like that, without the fear that he’ll lose it, that something will happen and he’ll lose them all.

But. But Bruce is not a coward, exactly. He has let his fear drive him, had let it drive him all the way to Calcutta, and he’d had good reasons for that fear, for putting himself at a distance from his old life and the U.S. Army and from Betty. But these people are different. The situation is different. Is there any reason to continue letting those old fears drive him? Tony doesn’t seem to think so, and he’s pretty much the smartest man on the planet.

And he knows how this group of people function.

Bruce leans forward and begins opening bottles of massage oil, sniffing at them, setting aside the ones he likes and putting back the ones he doesn’t.

He’s lying comfortably on his back, his arms crossed behind his head, when Tony comes into the room, still naked and a little damp, his hair curling a little around his face, and Tony smiles at him, clearly pleased by something, though Bruce isn’t sure what he’s doing that has pleased Tony. He ponders it for a moment, and then just decides to ask. “Why are you smiling?”

“Just having you lying back and waiting for me with that look on your face,” Tony says, shrugging one shoulder and waving a hand at the same time. “Just seeing you like that makes me feel like smiling.”

“What look?” Bruce asks curiously. He’d been unaware that he had any particular expression on his face at all.

“A mix of things,” Tony says, closing the distance and studying the array of bottles of oil Bruce has picked out of Tony’s collection. “Patience, a little like you’re already in subspace, or right on the verge of it, and smiling. You looked contented. It made me smile.” He arches a brow at Bruce. “What were you thinking about that was making you look like that?”

Bruce tries to reel his mind backward and figure out exactly what he’d been thinking about, but his mind had mostly been wandering freely. “Nothing especially,” he finally admits. “Just that I feel physically really good and mentally really relaxed. Otherwise my mind was just drifting. I… don’t really do that all that often. It was good. I was enjoying it.”

“I can see that,” Tony agrees, and picks out a bottle of oil. “Your mind is probably just as hyperactive as mine at any given moment, given you’re a genius. That just makes me happier. That you were at rest.” Tony tips the bottle toward Bruce so that he can see the label. “Sandalwood and vanilla musk alright with you?”

“Yes, Tony,” Bruce says. “You’ve got a lot of sandalwood blended scents. I like most of those.”

“I can see that,” Tony says, looking over at the rest of the bottles. He makes a brief humming noise, and then puts the bottle of oil down and begins opening cabinets until he finds one that is mostly empty. He methodically transfers all the scented oils that Bruce had rejected into it, and then closes it carelessly. Then he rearranges the bottles on the shelf beside the massage table until he seems satisfied with them, and turns back to Bruce. “If there is anything else you particularly like the scent of, we can always go shopping. There’s a trip in your future anyway.” He grins. “One of the best parts of a new partner is taking you out and letting you go crazy, which serves the dual function of letting me know what you like that I don’t already have.”

“Sounds like fun,” Bruce says, and it does, but he hopes that Tony will pick out things that he likes, too, so that it’s a mutual exchange of information.

“Turn over on your belly for just a minute so I can check on your back,” Tony says, and Bruce flips over and feels Tony’s hand stroking down his back and ass, at once soothing and arousing. “Wow,” Tony says finally. “Except for a little bruising on your ass, your back seems almost completely fresh. I think you get a little more than a tenth of what Steve gets from the serum.” He sounds thoughtful. “I wonder if Steve would be willing to take a beating for the sake of science.”

Bruce turns his face toward Tony, resting his cheek on his crossed arms, curious. “What did you have in mind?” he asks.

“Just a comparison on how fast the two of you recover. More for curiosity sake than from any real burning desire to know.” He cocks his head. “I’ll ask him. The worst he can say is no. But I’m betting if I offer him the right incentive, he’ll say yes.” Tony grins wickedly.

“Yeah? What kind of incentive?” Bruce asks.

“If I tell him I’ll let you fuck him if he lets me give him a strapping, he’ll say yes,” Tony says, smiling and looking smugly certain of it.

Bruce arches his brows. “Has he mentioned?” he asks, feeling himself blush.

“No. He wouldn’t put himself forward like that until he was more sure of you. But I know him, and you should have seen him, Bruce, while he was drawing you, and then when you threw yourself into his arms. He wants you to fuck him. Here. One second.”

Tony leaves the room and comes back a few minutes later with a sketch pad. He holds it up for Bruce to look at, and the first drawing is the one of Bruce, tied down and looking deeply content, all the marks on his body on display. “Now look where he paid the most attention,” he says, and Bruce studies the drawing for a long several seconds. It’s a detailed work, all of it fleshed out, not like the quick line drawing he’d done of Bruce that first night, so it’s harder to pick out. Eventually Bruce says, “My face, my hands, and my cock.”

“Exactly. And here.” He flips the page, and there is a detailed drawing of Bruce’s hands; Bruce recognizes them clearly, though he’s a little amazed that Steve had been able to draw them so accurately from memory. Tony flips the page, and Bruce is looking at a color picture of his own cock, which he is only certain of because as far as he knows, he’s the only one of them with silver in his pubes, and it’s just as detailed as the drawing of Bruce’s hands had been. The next page is a close up of Bruce’s lips, a little swollen looking, and the page after that is Bruce’s cock again.

Bruce isn’t sure what to say. He looks at Tony.

“You can’t tell me you’re that surprised,” Tony says. “You’re hung, Bruce, and Steve is a bottom all the way across the board. You’re bigger than I am, and wider, at least, than Coulson, though he may be as long. And you’ve got a gorgeous cock.”

“Should you have shown me those without asking him?” Bruce asks, feeling himself flushing, but also feeling his belly tighten in desire.

“He left it in the living room. It’s fair game.” Tony shrugs and sets the tablet to one side. “At any rate, he’s hung up on your cock, and to a lesser degree, your hands, which I can understand. Steve has a thing for grace and competence, and your hands are both.” He looks thoughtful again. “Would you like to fuck him?”

Bruce groans and presses his forehead against his crossed wrists for a long moment, the question prickling along his nerves like razorblades. Tony pulls his head up by a fistful of hair, but gently, and Bruce lets him turn his face back toward Tony.

“You don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready to do,” Tony says serious. “If this is too much too soon, all you have to do is say so, Bruce.”

“I would _love_ to fuck him,” Bruce grates out hoarsely. “I haven’t had my cock inside anyone else in so long I barely remember what it’s like. And he’s such a soft sub, he goes down so easily. The only person I want to fuck more than Steve is you, and that may be just because I’m kind of embarrassingly you-ccentric right now,” Bruce admits. “He’s gorgeous and sweet and yes, I want to fuck him, but if he doesn’t have any pain kinks, is it really fair to ask him for that in exchange for my… services?”

Tony purses his lips for a moment, and then shrugs. “That would be up to him, wouldn’t it? Whether or not your services were worth a going through a beating.” He cocks his head a little. “And I wouldn’t do it myself, if you’re still willing to let Coulson cane you. I’d have Coulson do you both, and just watch, because Coulson would get off on caning Steve so hard that I can’t bring myself not to give him the chance to do it, even if it’s just once. If it is just once.”

“What do you mean, if it is just once?” Bruce asks, turning slightly over on his side and going up on one elbow to look at Tony. 

Tony gives him a long, considering look, and then says, “I’d like this to stay in this room, between the two of us, for the time being. If it turns out to be nothing, no harm done, but if it turns out to be something, we can talk freely about it after the fact.”

“Of course,” Bruce agrees, intrigued. Tony looks very serious, is chewing on his bottom lip, brows drawn together in a look of intense focus.

“Steve has pain kinks. He denies them, but he has them. He’s just afraid of them. Honestly, showing him what you’re like taking it was at least as much for him as it was for you or for me. I think it’s mostly what he says, that he was hurt often enough at war that it doesn’t register for him as a good thing, but when I’m fucking him, he isn’t happy unless it’s hard enough to hurt. That’s half of why he’s probably so hung up on your cock. You’re big enough to really work him over. He’s let me spank him a couple of times, and he’s always safe worded out before it could get too far, and he comes over all blushing and embarrassed afterwards. He doesn’t want to admit to wanting it. Except, for some reason, the needles. He admitted he liked those. But the point is, letting him see you taking it and loving it and not being in the least embarrassed about it is something I want for Steve.” He pauses. “And also for Coulson. Throw Clint in with the two of them because he has amazing instincts on how far and how fast to go, and I think things could go really well for Steve, if he could get over feeling like liking pain is a bad thing. So yeah. I’d want to have Coulson do you both, and film it, and keep exact tallies on how quickly you heal compared to how quickly Steve heals, because I’m curious scientifically, but also because I’m a manipulative sadist and I think that it would be good for Steve.”

Bruce ponders that for several long moments. “You don’t have to ask my permission to do this,” he says. “I’ve already agreed to Coulson caning me and yes, God, I would love to fuck Steve. But I appreciate you taking the time to explain it to me. Have you tried to explain it to Steve?”

“We’re working with a communication barrier of seventy years or so,” Tony says. “The fact that he listened to me at all when I confronted him with his needs as a submissive is something like a miracle all by itself, and is kind of testimony to how badly he was doing outside of his role as Captain America. I didn’t push him on pain kinks because when I asked him, he said ‘No, thank you,’ and he was already doing something new and enormously difficult for him to accept considering his background, so I didn’t push it. But he’s in a better place now.” Tony flips the bottle of oil open and says, “Roll over on your back.”

Bruce rolls over obediently and Tony pours oil into one hand and rubs them together briskly.

“Steve doesn’t have it in him to lie to himself about what he wants if we are able to put him in a situation in which he gets it, and gets off on it. It’s getting him into that situation, since he’s already said no thanks to the pain, that is the key.” Tony strokes both hands across Bruce’s chest, the oil warm and the pressure just on the right side of pain. “So there are two ways I can gentle him to the idea. Have him present while you take it and clearly enjoy it, which will take a little while, and may leave him in quasi-bad headspace over the course of a few days or weeks while he tries to overcome his own fears, or I can trick him into it with your cock as the reward. I favor the second, because it gives him less time to be uneasy. Thoughts?”

Bruce groans as Tony’s fingertips tweak at his sore nipples, and then sighs when Tony’s hand stroke down across his belly, the oil warm and luxurious against his skin. Tony goes to work on Bruce’s arms, though they really only need a light coat, and then his thighs, which feels so good that Bruce almost forgets to have thoughts about Tony’s plans while Tony is touching him there. Eventually, Tony draws his hands back and wipes them with a towel. He’s smiling, but both of his brows are arched expectantly.

“My back could use one more day to recover before serious play,” Bruce says finally. “Well, not my back, it’s actually fine, but my ass. I’ve _been_ caned, Tony. I don’t want to start out with anything but completely healed skin and muscle. So what about having Steve stay and watch you hurt me once, give him one more chance to see me taking it and not being embarrassed by it, and then tomorrow ask him if he wants me to fuck him?”

“Sure,” Tony says agreeably, his expression easy. “Other than waiting for your ass to be unbruised, why have Steve sit in on you and me before we ask him?”

Bruce thinks about how to answer that for a long moment. “Because exposure makes a difference,” he says finally. “Being able to see other people doing what you think you might want for yourself without having any kind of negative feelings about it will help to banish the idea that _he_ should have negative feelings about it, if he has them. Because I know he likes and respects me, and if he has pain kinks he’s ashamed of because he sees them as a weakness of some kind, seeing me having them, enjoying them, and not seeing them as a weakness will ease some of his discomfort in the idea. So, yeah. If you leave my back alone today and just concentrate on my thighs or front or whatever, I can be ready for a caning tomorrow. And then you should ask Steve whether or not taking a beating would be worth the reward of having me fuck him.”

“Sensible,” Tony says, and tugs him upright with one hand. “Get in the shower. I’m going to go start coffee and breakfast.” He stops, though, midway to the shower, and turns back to look at Bruce. “No objections that he might really not have any pain kinks, and we shouldn’t push him into anything he says he doesn’t want, or submissive solidarity or anything like that?”

“I trust your judgement on what Steve needs, whether Steve knows it or not,” Bruce says. “You’ve been sleeping with him for months, and you’re one of the smartest men in the world. Besides that, I saw how he looked at me when he came in last night, before anything else went down, and it wasn’t an artist’s eye capturing something he wanted to put down on paper. It was fascination. And if you have that kind of fascination for looking at me like he was looking at me how I was last night, it’s because you either want to do it to someone, or you want to have it done to you. I won’t swear on that being the case, but since my gut instinct on it lines up so neatly with yours, I don’t see that we have anything to lose by trying it and finding out, and Steve stands to gain by it.” Bruce shakes his head. “Does Coulson know?” he asks

Tony chews his lip, and then shakes his head. “He may have his own suspicions, but he would never try them out without an explicit invitation, but otherwise, no. I didn’t want to tell him in case it doesn’t work out. Steve is his dream sub, except for that one tiny thing. I didn’t want to get his hopes up.”

“We’ll find out for sure when Coulson canes us,” Bruce says with certainty.

Tony arches a brow.

Bruce shrugs. “There is no way to hide whether or not you like a caning, Tony. Not if you’re a man, especially, but even if we don’t take hard ons into consideration, caning is fierce. We’ll know within a few strokes whether or not he gets off on it.”

Tony looks thoughtful. “I’ve been caned. I wouldn’t have said it was any better or worse than any other thing I’ve been hit with.”

Bruce smiles a little. “Then the person who caned you wasn’t doing it right,” he says. “Coulson will do it right.”

Tony slaps him on the ass. “I believe you. Get in the shower and I’ll start breakfast.”

“Should I dress after, Tony?” Bruce asks, and feels his cheeks heat.

Tony smiles. “Do whatever makes you comfortable, keeping in mind that people will probably show up for breakfast.”

Bruce gets in the shower, his hard on a persistent ache between his thighs that he’s trying hard to ignore, and washes his hair with Tony’s shampoo and hisses a little in pleased discomfort as he washes the bruises on his inner thighs, which only makes hard on more persistent. He ponders whether or not he’s going to wear clothes out into the rest of the penthouse, and while he’s drying off, finally decides that he will, or that he at least partially will, and digs around in Tony’s closet until he finds a pair of skintight knit shorts that might be underwear or might be biking shorts, he can’t really tell.

It’s less about body modesty than it is about not being naked around food, really, and he doesn’t try to find a shirt at all, as his chest still thrums and burns, his nipples twin points of sharper pain in the middle of it, and any cloth at all rubbing against them would be torturous.

When he wanders out into the penthouse, Steve and Coulson are already there. Steve is standing by Tony at the stove, cooking pancakes while Tony scrambles eggs. Coulson gives Bruce a thorough looking over, his lips curled a little, and asks, “How do you feel?”

“Better than I’ve felt in years,” Bruce answers immediately, and without shame. Steve turns to look at him, taking in the bruises on his chest and arms and thighs, and his cheeks go a little pink as his gaze drops below Bruce’s waistband at his erection, which is obviously present and accounted for, but he gives Bruce a shy smile anyway. 

Tony pauses stirring the eggs to kiss Bruce, and says, “I’d forgotten I even had those. Good choice, you look amazing in them, and they show off all your marks. How is your chest.”

“Hurts,” Bruce says easily. “I couldn’t even imagine putting on a shirt, anything against my nipples right now would be sheer torment, but I kind of thought…” He shrugs, and blushes a little. “I thought I could wear anything or nothing, and it would be okay with everyone.”

“You thought right,” Coulson says. “Can I see your back?”

Bruce turns to display it. After a moment, Coulson asks, “Can I touch it?”

Bruce tenses only a little, but says, “Yes. It’s more or less healed up.”

Coulson runs his hands across Bruce’s back, touch firm but not rough. “What about your ass?” Coulson asks.

“Still a little bruised,” Bruce admits. “If we do anything with caning, I would want to wait one more day to let it fade.”

Coulson says nothing for a long moment, and when Bruce turns back around he’s giving him an intense and serious look. “Are you going to volunteer for the caning yourself?” he asks. His eyes are the only things that really give him away, swimming a little with avariciousness.

“I thought I would,” he says cautiously, throwing a glance at Tony, who merely nods. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

“I would be delighted,” Coulson says, sounding gruff and sincere at once. “I thought the two of you had decided on exclusivity.”

“We… rethought the issue,” Tony says, sounding unconcerned. “I don’t want Bruce doing anything that he isn’t ready for, but I also want him to be able to make connections with any or all of you without any kinds of constraint, sexual or otherwise. So it’s up to him, whether or not he fools around with any of you. As long as you don’t wear him out so that I don’t get my share of his time, he’s on his own recognizance. Which, brings to mind something I wanted to ask Steve.” He says it so casually that Steve doesn’t even look away from the pancake he’s flipping. “I think the serum gives Bruce a leg up on healing, but I’m not sure how much of a leg up, and I don’t have anyone to compare him with but you.” Tony turns to face Steve, spatula in hand, and Steve freezes, and then looks slowly toward Tony, his cheeks blazing with heat. “I wondered if you’d be willing to take a beating in the name of science,” he asks Steve. “So that I can compare your rates of recovery.”

Steve doesn’t say anything at first, and then turns back to his pancakes, concentrating on them for several seconds, but Bruce can see his face, flushed red, and the struggle going on there, and he’s almost sure that Tony is right about Steve, or else why struggle with it at all. If he isn’t at least somewhat intrigued with the idea, if he really doesn’t like pain, it should be easy, Tony’s whole speech had been designed to make it easy for him to just say no.

Eventually, Steve says, “As long as I’ve got my safewords… I guess. I mean. I’m not totally against it.”

“I’ve got an incentive for you, if you need it,” Tony says, and Steve turns to glance at him for a second and then just as quickly away. 

“I don’t need an incentive to let you try something just to try it,” he says softly, and Bruce is sure.

“Still, it’s something you’ll want,” Tony says.

Steve looks up again, looks down, flips another pancake. “What?” he finally asks, still blushing hotly and concentrating fiercely on his cooking.

“You want Bruce to fuck you,” Tony says, without sounding the least bit unsure about it. “You were practically eating his cock with your eyes last night.”

Steve’s shoulders hunch a little, but he doesn’t deny it. “I don’t want Bruce doing anything Bruce doesn’t want to do,” he says steadily.

“Oh, I want to,” Bruce says, and angles his way around the kitchen island to stand behind Steve, who freezes, a pancake perfectly balanced on his spatula. He takes the chance of pressing the front of his body against the back of Steve’s, taking care to press his erection firmly against the curve of his ass. “It’s been a long time for me, and I’m mostly a submissive, Steve, but I have a cock, and I like to use it. Also, I got a great view of your ass last night. So don’t let that concern you. If you want it, I want to do it, but only if you want it.”

Steve’s breath leaves him in a harsh rasp, and he presses back against the front of Bruce’s body hard for a moment, his head tipping a little back. Bruce wishes he could see his face, but both Tony and Coulson are watching him, and Steve says softly, shyly, “Yes, I. I mean, if you really want to, I’d be. I’m. I mean I don’t want to do anything to get in the way of you and Tony right now, when it’s still so new, but, I would be. Willing. If you were interested.”

“I’m more than just interested,” Bruce says softly, pressing his hard on up against Steve’s ass with a little more force. “I’d love to fuck you, Steve.”

Steve breathes out again harshly, but just nods, and after a moment, deposits his pancake on the huge stack of them that he’s making. “Then, yes. I’d. I’ll do both. I’ll do either.”

Bruce moves around so that he’s standing to one side of Steve and can see his face. “You gave me something last night,” he says gently. “When you held me down. You gave me the feeling that you wouldn’t let go. I… I am afraid of letting people get close to me and then letting go. It felt like you wouldn’t do that to me. That as long as I needed you to hold me down, you would be there to do it. That’s. It’s a big step for me. I’m not sure I’m ready to take that step with anyone else, yet, but you… I think you and I could be good.”

Steve turns to face Bruce, still blushing, but smiling also, broad and genuine, and he presses his shoulder against Bruce’s chest for a moment. “I’m glad I gave you that. I wanted to give you what you needed. I’m glad I could. And you were…” he pauses, eyes flickering a little uncertainly. “You needed me there, and I could feel it, and that was good for me, too,” he says finally.

Bruce smiles. “Good. I was worried you’d be freaked out.”

“I thought I would be,” Steve says, a faint furrow appearing between his brows. “I never thought about how it would look, about how you would look. I only thought that it was… I don’t know. Just pain for the sake of Tony liking to give pain. But it wasn’t like that at all. You were… amazing looking. Everything about it was different than what I thought.”

“Things are usually different than what we imagine them to be when we’re scared of them,” Coulson says in a low, even voice that is infinitely gentle. “Sometimes you have to see something to really believe it can work.”

“Yes,” Steve says at once. “That’s exactly it. I couldn’t see how it would work. But it was… you were beautiful, and Tony was so careful with you. I thought it would be brutal, and it was, kind of, in a way, but it was also not. It was reciprocal in a way I never thought it could be.”

“That’s just how I’m wired,” Bruce says. “So I’ll fuck you whether you agree to take a beating or not, but I’m as much a scientist as Tony is, and I’m curious about my own recovery times as compared to yours. It’s totally up to you. My fucking you doesn’t depend on you submitting to getting a beating.”

Steve smiles then, some of the color leaving his cheeks. “Good to know,” he says. “But I’m still willing. I’m not sure I’ll be as much fun for Tony to hit as you obviously are, but I don’t mind being part of the experiment.”

“Actually, we’re going to have Coulson do both of you, if that is still okay,” Tony says casually. Coulson’s face goes immediately blank, his eyes dark, but doesn’t say anything. “Tomorrow, when Bruce’s ass isn’t bruised any more. Coulson volunteered to teach me to cane Bruce.”

Steve glances at Coulson, and then turns back to his pancakes. “That’s fine,” he says, but his voice is trembling just a little. “I take it you’re going to be there?” he asks Tony.

“I kind of have to be, if I’m learning how to cane Bruce,” Tony says with a wry chuckle. “Plus, I want to see Bruce fuck you. I want to see Bruce fuck everyone, honestly, and get fucked by everyone, but so far he’s only comfortable enough for you. You don’t feel pressured into it because of that, do you? Bruce would never want you to feel like you had to do anything.”

“No!” Steve says at once, and blushes again. “Bruce is… he has blanket permission to fuck me. I want it.” He pushes aside the platter of pancakes and takes the skillet off of the hot burner, carrying skillet and spatula over to the sink without looking up at any of them. “I…” He turns the water on in the sink, and the skillet sizzles. “I wanted him as soon as I saw his cock,” he says finally, quietly, and with some careful dignity. “As soon as I saw him naked really, when you brought him into your room wearing your collar. I just wasn’t sure if it would be a problem for the two of you. I know you’re still getting settled into each other.”

Tony says, “I think he might be able to top you, if you wanted that,” in a careful tone. “You don’t need much except a steady hand, and I’m pretty sure Bruce can give you that.”

Steve shrugs a little, his back still facing them as he washing the skillet. “It can be that way if Bruce wants it to be. Or he can just fuck me. It doesn’t have to be any kind of a scene.”

Bruce thinks that, after the caning, it is most definitely going to be some kind of a scene, but he doesn’t say so.

“I’m not sure yet,” Bruce says honestly. “I’ve only topped a couple of times, and I think I did okay, and you’re a sweet sub when you go down, so maybe. But maybe it will just be me fucking you. But I’d like to hold you down,” he says, a little surprised to hear it come out of his mouth, even though it’s been lurking in the back of his mind since Tony had brought it up. “Not tie you, because I want you to be able to move, but hold your wrists and really give it to you. Not be gentle, I mean. It’s okay if that’s a deal breaker.”

Steve turns back to face the room. His face is still pink, but his eyes are glittering now, and he’s hard in his jeans and not trying to hide it. “No, I think you holding me down and fucking me would be just about perfect, Bruce,” he says, chin a little tipped up, as though it costs him something to say it, but his expression earnest. “I’d let you do it right now if you wanted to.” His blush flares again, but he’s clearly serious.

“Wait until I’m a little more healed,” Bruce says. “Tomorrow will be better. Tonight, I’m hoping you’ll join Tony and me. He. He want’s to make an X pattern on my thighs, and I’d like you there to hold me for him.”

Steve smiles, and his blush fades almost completely. He crosses the room to Bruce, hesitates just for a moment, and then slips a hand into his still-damp hair and bends down and kisses him. The kiss is soft at first, uncertain of its welcome, but Bruce opens his mouth right away, and Steve sighs into Bruce’s mouth and leans into him, his body pliant, his lips and tongue hot and eager. Their erections, trapped between their bodies, drag against each other, and Steve lets out a small, helpless groan.

“Well, this is not what I expected when Jarvis told me breakfast was ready,” Clint says, sauntering easily into the room and smiling. Steve breaks away from Bruce, blushing, but Clint waves a hand. “Don’t let me stop you!”

“I was just…” Steve says, his lips quirking a little. “I wanted to get the first kisses other than Tony. I know, it’s petty, but I just wanted to be first.”

Bruce feels himself blushing, flattered and pleased and still desperately turned on. “I… thank you,” he stammers. Steve smiles and tugs at his hair a little.

“Okay, so, who is hungry?” Tony asks, and they all arrange themselves around the kitchen bar that serves as a table. Natasha shows up only a minute or so after Clint and joins them, but Thor doesn’t make an appearance. 

“He was up late,” Natasha says, arching her brows in amusement.

Clint snorts. “So were we. He’s a lazy, lazy god.”

“He’s probably just conserving his strength,” Tony says. “It’s Saturday. Jane will probably show up soon.”

“Lazy,” Clint repeats, and helps himself to a heaping plate of pancakes, eggs and sausage.

Natasha is looking around the bar at them, her expression puzzled. Before she even gets herself a plate, she says, “Okay, what did we miss?”

Steve and Bruce both blush, Coulson merely smiles, and only Tony looks startled. “How do you always know?” he demands.

She shrugs it off. “I just do. There are different undercurrents between the four of you than there were last night. So what is it?”

“Bruce and Steve are going to participate in an experiment to see how fast Bruce heals from a caning compared to how fast Steve heals from one,” Coulson says, spreading his napkin on his lap with apparent unconcern. “I’m going to be the one delivering the caning, Tony is going to be present so he can learn how to do it, and then I believe Bruce is going to fuck Steve.”

Natasha’s eyebrows arch in surprise. “Steve is going to let you cane him?” she asks, as though she’s just clarifying the point. She’s giving Coulson a look that Bruce is pretty sure means she suspects the same thing that Tony does, that Steve will like it.

“Tomorrow, when the bruises on Bruce’s ass are fully healed,” Coulson says.

Natasha takes a plate and slowly begins filling it, her brows drawn together thoughtfully. “Is this something private between the four of you, or are you willing to open it up to spectators?” she asks finally.

Tony, Coulson, and Steve all look at Bruce, who flushes, but forces himself to meet and hold Natasha’s gaze. “I’m sorry,” he says.

Natasha smiles at him, and just shakes her head. “No need. But can we see you after?”

Bruce thinks about that, thinks about last night, and then says, “Yes, I think so. If everything goes well, I should be… tractable enough to exhibit.”

“I’ll take it,” she says, looking pleased. “Whatever makes you comfortable, Bruce, and no more.”

“I really am sorry,” he says, feeling it deep behind his breastbone, a tight knot of unhappiness.

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry for,” she says. “We’re ready when you are, but there’s no hurry.”

They eat breakfast, and Coulson excuses himself first, saying, “There are some things I have to get if I’m going to do this tomorrow. Some of them I have, but some I’ll have to buy. Tony, we can do this in your room? Your restraint system is better than mine.”

Tony nods, but frowns a little. “You don’t have a solid setup?” he asks.

“I haven’t needed one,” Coulson says. “But now I might, so that’s one of the things I want to attend to.” He looks at Clint. “Want to go shopping with me?” he asks. “I might need someone to experiment on.”

Clint shoves back from the bar and gets to his feet so quickly that he almost knocks his chair over. “Sir,”is all he says, though, and Coulson gives him a nod and a small smile, and the two of them disappear into the elevator.

“I have plans today with Pepper,” Natasha announces. “We’ve got Maria convinced to take the day with us.” She waggles her brows, looking amused. “We’ll see how that works out. Oh, and Rhodey called after you went to bed last night Tony, and is going to be in town today. I wasn’t sure what your plans with Bruce were, so I roped him into my plans. Okay?”

“Very okay,” Tony says. “Pepper knows I’ve collared Bruce, but Rhodey doesn’t know yet, so if you could keep that information to yourself, I’d appreciate it.”

“You think he’ll disapprove?” Natasha asks, frowning.

“No, he knows I’ve been wanting to. But Rhodey and I have shared subs in the past, and I’m not quite ready to do that yet with Bruce, so I’d rather wait to tell him myself so that I can detail our relationship to him,” Tony says.

Natasha nods. “Does Pepper know not to say?” she asks.

“Yeah, Pepper is aware of everything. I’ve taken the next week off from everything, so I had to tell her everything or she would have accused me of all sorts of nasty things, but since it’s just me taking some time to settle with my new sub, she didn’t even yell at me.” He grins. “She got a little teary eyed about my actually collaring someone, try to get her not to buy me a collaring gift. The custom is antiquated, and I got the only gift I needed when he said yes.”

Natasha gives Tony an uncommonly soft look. “I’ll see what I can do, but Pepper has her own ideas about what kinds of things should be celebrated; if she has her heart set on getting you something, I’m not going to interfere.”

“That’s all I can ask,” Tony says, and gives her a little wave as she leaves the bar.

Then it is just Tony, Bruce, and Steve, and Steve gets up to clear the table and load the dishwasher, while Tony gives Bruce a long and steady look. 

“What do you want to do today, Bruce?” he asks finally, and Bruce flushes slightly but manages not to look away.

“I need to do some stretching and some yoga to work out a little stiffness, Tony, but honestly other than that, I’m fine with almost anything,” he says.

Tony hums softly for a moment, and then says, “Why don’t you do that, and Steve and I will occupy ourselves while you do, and you can join us when you’re done.”

Bruce wonders what Tony is going to do with Steve to occupy himself, but not in a worried way. He nods his agreement, and takes himself down to his own floor, as that is where his mat and other yoga accoutrements live.

Doing yoga with an erection proves to be a challenge, but Bruce manages to work around it, even when it doesn’t subside when he thinks it ought to have. He has a cup of tea and wanders around his suite, thinking without overthinking, but finally he is too wrapped up in Tony to want to be away from him for long, and he makes his way back up to the penthouse.

Tony and Steve are not in the living area, and the bedroom door is closed. Bruce ponders this for several seconds, but Tony had invited him to join them when he was done, so eventually he just knocks lightly at the door and lets himself in.

He stares, aware that his mouth is a little open, when he realizes that Steve is fucking Tony, who is sprawled out sideways across the mattress on his belly, his face flushed and his body lax. Steve is giving it to him in slow, easy strokes, his eyes closed and his head tipped a little back, obviously enjoying himself immensely. They both stop and look at Bruce when he comes in, and then Tony gestures Bruce over. Bruce barely remembers the knee line, and crawls over to the side of the bed.

“Come on up if you want to,” Tony says roughly, and Bruce drags himself up and onto the bed, where he can see everything, including Steve’s cock rocking gently into and out of Tony’s body, and Tony’s lazy look of pleasure, different than he’s looked with Bruce so far, his expression relaxed and easy, without the same kind of intensity he directs at Bruce, just a slow and easy fuck, Steve moving completely naturally, so that it’s obvious that he’s done this before often enough to be comfortable with it. Steve throws a look at Bruce, seems reassured by what he sees on his face, and doesn’t stop what he’s doing while Bruce arranges himself across the foot of the bed where he can see it all.

And there is a lot to look at. The shift and flex of Steve’s thighs and ass as he pushes his cock into Tony, the stretch of Tony’s hole around the deep red of Steve’s shaft, the looks on both of their faces, Steve’s wreathed with pleasure, Tony’s almost languid with it, as though neither of them are in a hurry. Tony hardly makes a sound, and Steve only breathes heavily. As Bruce watches, Steve lifts a hand and brushes Tony’s hair away from his brow and then curls forward to mouth at the angle of Tony’s jaw. Bruce’s whole body is hyperaware of the sex that is happening only a couple of feet away from him, and when Steve shifts and angles himself differently and Tony lets out a soft moan, Bruce can feel his own cock jerking within the confines of the shorts he’s wearing, wanting and desperate, but he’s fascinated at the same time. He wants to be involved, he’s so hard, but watching them is good, too, watching Tony take it with such apparent enjoyment is especially good. Bruce wants to have Tony like this, slow and easy, wants to have Tony almost any way, truthfully, fast or slow, rough or gentle, just _wants_ Tony, however Tony wants it to be.

Bruce can’t help but stare, and he wants to ask for things, but he’s mindful of the situation, mindful that Steve and Tony have a thing that is separate from what Bruce has or will have with either of them, and isn’t willing to intrude on that, no matter how grinding and intense the need in his groin is.

He is going to have to learn patience, which, to be fair, he already has, he has patience in spades, but he’s going to have to learn it in this, going to have to re-learn it as it concerns sex, because it’s been so long, he’s been on his own for so long, he’d almost forgotten how it feels to want someone as badly as he wants Tony.

They speed up gradually, obviously accustomed enough to one another that neither of them has to ask, and Steve shifts again, propping one knee up on the bed, and Tony jerks out a short, sharp cry, and Bruce watches Tony’s hands curl into fists in the sheets and his face flush as Steve’s hips piston tirelessly, his rhythm perfectly even and steady even as Tony starts to writhe beneath him, jerking back onto Steve’s cock and thrusting against the bed, and Bruce desperately wants Tony not to get himself off by rubbing against the bed, would love to have Tony in his mouth or in his ass when Tony comes, and his own breathing is almost as loud and erratic as theirs is when Tony finally opens his eyes and looks at Bruce.

“Up, Steve,” Tony says, and Steve slides his other knee forward and lifts Tony, so that he’s straddling Steve’s thighs backwards, still buried in Tony’s ass, and Steve hisses out a little sound of need that crawls heatedly up Bruce’s spine and lodges in the base of his brain, and Bruce can see Tony’s cock, hard and deeply red and angry looking. “Bruce?” Tony asks, and Bruce just nods and shifts up so that he’s perpendicular to Tony, glancing up at Tony’s face to make sure it’s okay. Tony says, “I won’t last long,” but it’s permission enough, and Bruce surges forward and takes Tony’s cock into his mouth, as fast and as deep as he can. Tony fists both of his hands into Bruce’s hair and holds him still, and Steve’s thrusts from behind Tony are enough to push Tony’s cock into Bruce’s mouth, and Bruce doesn’t resist the push and pull of it, likes it, even, is content to be guided to make it exactly how Tony wants it, and he uses his lips and his tongue, but mostly he just sucks hard, tasting Tony’s precome and feeling the hard press of the head of Tony’s cock against the roof of his mouth, and he would shift up and take it deeper, he could, he knows how, but Tony is holding him steadily, and now he is making noise, a long, low groan, and Steve is panting harshly behind Tony, great, gasping breaths, but he isn’t asking for anything, either, is just doing it how Tony wants it, and Bruce’s cock is a tangled mass of nerves between his thighs, but he’s content with that, too, he is in Tony’s hands and under Tony’s power, and he knows when Tony is going to come because of the stutter of his hips and the sudden clenching of his thighs, and Tony whispers, “Yeah, Bruce, yes,” and Bruce feels the spurt of Tony coming across his tongue, bitter and salty and perfect while Tony holds him still by the hair and thrusts again and again into Bruce’s mouth. He slows, eventually, and begins to soften, and Steve is still panting harshly behind him, his hips still rocking as he thrusts into to Tony, but Steve must understand Tony really well, or else there had been some kind of signal passed between them, because Steve has slowed and is back to that easy pace, though it’s clear from his breathing that he wants, still, that he hadn’t come when Tony had.

Tony lets go of Bruce’s hair and pushes it back from his face, and asks, “Willing to give Steve some help?”

Bruce blinks up in surprise, but only nods, not sure what Tony wants him to do exactly, but willing to do it anyway, and is then jolted with a brief, almost hysterical kind of joy as he realizes that it doesn’t matter what Tony wants Bruce to do with Steve, Bruce is willing, Steve feels safe, it feels safe to be with Steve. Tony says, “Stop, Steve,” and Steve does it at once, though he lets out a low groan of what might be either protest or desperation, or both. Tony pushes Bruce backward by the shoulders, and Bruce gets up to his knees, and then Tony slowly pulls off of Steve and then shifts to one side, so that Bruce can see Steve’s cock, so deeply red it is almost purple, slick with lube and jerking between his thighs. Steve’s eyes are closed, his face twisted with want, but his shoulders are loose, his whole body is almost relaxed, like he trusts Tony, like he has no fear of being left this way.

“Is he clean enough for you?” Tony asks, arching a brow at Bruce, and for several seconds Bruce doesn’t even know what Tony is talking about, and then it shivers into his brain all at once, that Tony wants to Bruce to suck Steve, and is asking if Steve having just had his cock inside Tony is a problem. 

Bruce says, “I hope you’ll let me rim you until you’re desperate to come, Tony, I don’t have any problems with tasting your ass.”

Tony smirks at him, and says, “I’ll keep it in mind. For right now, though, why don’t you put that talented mouth of yours to work on Steve. He’s been very good, and he deserves to come.”

Bruce scoots closer to Steve, and Steve is looking down at him, dazed and wide-eyed, but he doesn’t object, just leans back on his hands so that his cock is jutting up at an angle, and gives Bruce a pleading look, his gaze fixed on Bruce’s mouth, his breath still coming in ragged pants from his chest. Bruce goes down on him, tastes the lube and the slight musky taste of Tony’s ass, but mostly is focused on taking as much of Steve at once as he can, leaning forward so he has a better angle, and he hears Steve cry out as his cock bumps against the back of Bruce’s throat, and then Bruce shifts a little more and takes him deeper, and Steve actually shouts a little, sounding shocked. 

Tony says, “Maybe he can teach you to do that, Steve,” with a wicked little lilt in his voice, and then adds, “You can touch him, you can put your hands in his hair and fuck his mouth, he likes that, he’s good at it.”

Tentatively, Steve winds his fingers into Bruce’s hair, and Bruce pulls back just enough to make an encouraging sound, and then goes all the way back down again, and his throat is going to be sore later, Steve is big, but it’s worth it to feel Steve’s hands slowly cup the back of his head, gentle and uncertain, but firm enough that Bruce can feel the desire for it, to be held like that, and Steve rocks his hips up once, gently, as though trying to decide if it really is okay, and Bruce wraps his hands around Steve’s hips and drags them forward, forcing Steve’s cock deep into his throat, and he feels like he always feels when his air is cut off, a tight coil of fear laced with desire, but Tony is there, and that is all he needs for it to feel safe, and the next time he drags at Steve’s hips, Steve flexes up with him, still careful, still uncertain, and Bruce swallows deliberately around Steve’s cock, hears him make a choked, hopeless sound of desperation that travels straight to Bruce’s groin, and then Steve’s hips are moving on their own, pressing up and in, his hands curling more tightly around the back of Bruce’s head, and Tony says, “Fuck his mouth, Steve, he can take it,” and then Steve really is fucking Bruce’s mouth, hips jerking up even as his hands hold Bruce steady.

“Tony, can I please, I need to,” Steve grates out harshly, his cock thick and dragging along the tender insides of Bruce’s throat.

Tony says, “Yeah, Steve, you were so good, so patient for me today,” and Bruce feels Tony lean into Steve above him, is distantly aware that Tony is kissing Steve.

Then Steve is groaning out in harsh, bitten off little cries, “Ungh, ungh, ungh, God, Bruce, you are so…” and then his cock jerks hard in Bruce’s throat and Bruce stays all the way down, his lips wrapped around the base of Steve’s cock, his nose crushed into the heated male scent of his pubes, and lets Steve ride out his orgasm, still breathless, but not in any danger of losing consciousness, it had all been over too fast for that, and he doesn’t pull off until Steve’s hands fall away from the back of his head and he slumps back, tugging his cock a little way free just from the change in position, and then Bruce pulls off slowly, letting his tongue and lips explore the shape of Steve as he softens, just so that he has a better feel for him, and he feels almost euphoric, triumphant, and when he looks at Tony he knows Tony can see it, because Tony grins at him, beaming and proud looking.

“Good boy, Bruce,” Tony purrs, and opens his arms with an easy air, like it is nothing for him to offer to hold Bruce after, and Bruce falls forward into them, nuzzling against Tony’s chest, breathing hard, arms twisted around Tony’s waist while Tony holds him with his arms around Bruce’s upper back, just holds him and murmurs into his hair, “You were so good, you didn’t even hesitate, and you took him all the way, you’re going to have to teach both of us that, you know, I can deepthroat, but I’ve never been able to take Steve all the way, so there must be some kind of trick you know that I don’t,” the whole time stroking his hands across Bruce’s back and dragging his lips along Bruce’s temple.

“It’s just physics,” Bruce says, his voice a little raspy, but he can hear it in his own voice, how happy he is, how he feels like he succeeded easily at something he had somehow thought would be hard, and he kisses Tony’s chest, and says, “It’s just physics and being able to relax, it might help to get you a little drunk the first time I try to show you how to take all of Steve, or a little stoned, if you smoke pot, do you smoke pot? You seem like you might be a pot smoker.”

“Occasionally,” Tony says, and Bruce can hear in his voice that he’s smiling. “I could get my hands on some pot if you think it would help relax me enough to take Steve all the way.”

“That’s how I learned the first time,” Bruce says. “Practiced ‘til I found where I was hung up, and then my top suggested we smoke a bowl, said it would help me relax, and then after, I was so relaxed that once I got to the part where I hung up I just closed my eyes and let myself not think about it, and it happened just like that, naturally.”

“I’ll see what I can do, I know some people,” Tony says, sounding amused. “I’ll have Pepper hook me up with her supplier.”

“Pepper smokes pot?” Steve asks, sounding dazed and relaxed and scandalized all at once, which Bruce finds hilarious. 

“Pepper has a lot of stress in her life,” Tony says. “She takes her relaxation where she can get it. Besides, she grew up in a family of hippies. Don’t tell her I told you that. She likes to pretend she has always been Super Professional, but yeah, she confessed it to me one time when she was drunk, that her family routinely smoked pot and walked around the house naked, so she could never invite friends from school over to her place. I think she was a little bitter about it as a kid, but now she thinks it’s funny. And it’s still the rule, whenever I see Pepper’s family, she calls ahead to make sure they’re dressed, though she gave up on trying to make sure they weren’t stoned when it became clear that I didn’t care. Pepper’s folks are very earthy, and they managed to raise a CEO, a Public Defender, and a Mathematician.”

“Not to change the subject Tony, but I watched Steve fuck you and then I sucked you off and then I sucked Steve off, and I have to tell you that I feel like I earned an orgasm at this point.” Bruce blushes hotly at his own boldness, momentarily uncertain, but is almost immediately reassured.

Steve laughs, and Tony’s arms tighten around him for a long moment, and Bruce feels the rumble of his low chuckle against his chest. 

Then Tony sets him back away a little and gives him a considering look. “Do you want something simple, or are you up for something a little more exotic?”

Bruce throws a glance a Steve and blushes a little, but manages to say, “I want it to be what you want it to be,” with at least a little dignity.

Tony’s face goes soft, his eyes warm for a long moment, then he leans in and kisses Bruce softly on the mouth.

“Should I leave?” Steve asks, though it’s obvious from his tone that he wants to stay.

Tony cocks a brow at Bruce and Bruce just shakes his head. “Not for my sake. That’s up to Tony. I. I know you and I aren’t the same, so you have to just try to take my word for it. Most things I’d rather just leave up to Tony.”

Tony smiles at him, looking both fond and a little evil, and says, “Then something a little more exotic. It’ll give Steve a frame of reference. I’ll show him things I don’t do to him. Maybe something will catch his eye.” He looks thoughtful for a long moment, and then says, “Okay, Steve, since Bruce likes it so much, you scoot up against the headboard and let him lean back against you. You can hold his wrists.”

Bruce blushes, and Steve looks curiously at him. “You like it when I hold you down?” he asks, looking serious, sounding kind of tentatively pleased.

“Yeah, you feel like you won’t let me go,” Bruce tries to explain. “Like you’ll be there no matter what. That’s what makes doing things with you feel right, really. That you give me the feeling that you won’t ever decide to let go. You’re… steady.”

Tony gets up and goes to his kink closet.

“The rest of the team is steady too, Bruce,” Steve says solemnly. “I understand that you may need more time to feel that way about them, but, I think. I mean, I only held you down _once_ , and you already feel like I won’t let you go, which you’re right about, I won’t ever let you go. But I think if it was only once with me, and you feel like doing things with me is right, you only have to trust them a little before you can feel like that with any of them. Just give them one chance. I kind of understand. I lost everything, too.” Steve’s voice is extremely gentle as he says it, and Bruce realizes with a jolt of revelation that Steve is drawing parallels between them that are actually pretty dead on. That Steve may have been, in the beginning, even worse off than Bruce is, because Bruce, at least, has always been around people, even when he felt that he couldn’t be close to them. 

“When you and Tony started this, why did you decide to trust Tony to be your… your touchstone?” Bruce asks, genuinely curious.

“Tony came to me,” Steve says. “And he was the only one that seemed to see that I was in trouble. And. I didn’t do it right away. I thought. I don’t know what I thought. That he was trying to goad me. But things didn’t get better, and the more I thought about the things he had said, the more I started to feel like maybe I needed the help he had offered. That maybe he was serious, and not just winding me up. So it was actually just about three months ago, and I knew him better by then, and I was almost out of control. I needed help, and he knew, and I was pretty sure he wouldn’t tell anyone if I didn’t want him to. And then after the first time, when I first just let myself do everything he said to do, and felt how I felt afterward, I was sure. And even if that had been all, it would have been enough. I would have been grateful. But he gave me my room and he spends hours with me sometimes teaching me to live _now_ , and when I can’t stop thinking about everything I lost, he can help me stop thinking about it. I feel like I got lucky,” he says, and then looks at Tony for a moment, smiling a little. “And then he sort of dragged me into what was already going on with the rest of the team, and I was shocked and embarrassed and fascinated and things just got to be how they are now. So that I can go to any of them to get what I need and I never have to feel bad about needing it. I still need my room and I still need Tony to make me not think sometimes, but I’m getting better at getting that from the rest of the team, too. But the answer, I guess, is because he noticed that I needed a touchstone and no one else did.”

“I never suspected,” Bruce admits, feeling guilty. “You always seemed like you were adapting pretty well.”

“Yeah, well. Before the serum, I weighed a hundred pounds and got into fistfights at least once a week. I know how to put up a front. And it’s not like you weren’t going through your own troubles settling into a place like this after being on your own for so long. And that’s kind of true of the whole team. I can’t blame them for not noticing because we were _all_ trying to figure out how to handle the situation. I just had more of a handicap than the rest of you.” Steve shakes his head and scoots up against the headboard. “Come here,” he says, and holds out his arms.

Bruce hesitates for a moment, and then scoots back into Steve’s arms. Steve wraps both arms around his chest and squeezes gently. “The team is great,” he murmurs to Bruce, his lips brushing up against Bruce’s ear. “There isn’t a single one of us that would let you go, Bruce. We worried about it, we talked about it, we made plans to try to make sure you’d want to stay.”

Bruce doesn’t say anything in response, just thinks about it and lets the idea warm him. He relaxes against Steve’s chest, and watches Tony sort through things in his kink closet. Tony’s ass is extremely distracting to watch, and without meaning to, he asks, “Is fucking him as good as it looked like it was.”

Steve laughs. “Oh, yeah. The first time… I mean, I had no idea what I was doing at all, and he just told me exactly what to do, step by step, and I thought I was going to die by the time he let me come. He gets in moods.”

“I can hear you talking,” Tony reminds them, though he sounds interested and amused rather than irritated.

“We know,” Steve says, the smile audible in his voice. “He gets in moods when everything has to be hard and fast, and then other times it’s more like what you saw, easy and kind of… luxurious. Like just wallowing in pleasure. I can’t honestly tell you which I like better.”

Tony turns back toward them with his hands full. He sits everything on the edge of the bed and then crawls up to kneel between Bruce’s slightly spread thighs. He grabs a leather cockring from his little pile of supplies and says, “You’re going to have to take the shorts off Bruce. Unless you were planning to come with them on?”

Bruce blushes and shifts his hips up to shove the shorts down his thighs and Tony catches them at his knees and pulls them the rest of the way off. He drops them over the side of the bed.

“Nice,” Steve murmurs against Bruce’s ear, and Bruce can clearly hear the avarice in his tone. So Tony had been right about that. He hadn’t doubted Tony exactly, but he also hadn’t been entirely sure he was worth Steve taking a beating he might not want just because Steve wants Bruce to fuck him. He has the whole team to choose from, after all.

Tony expertly winds the leather cockring around Bruce’s cock and balls. Bruce arches helplessly into Tony’s touch, and tries not to groan aloud. “I thought about needleplay,” Tony says seriously, which sends a jolt of lust tearing through Bruce’s groin at the idea. “But I don’t want you to be too sore to fuck Steve tomorrow, so I decided on this instead.” He holds up a short flogger no longer than Bruce’s forearm, but Bruce can see by looking at it that it’s not a toy. It’s got several plain leather strands, but it has several more that are knotted into stiff plaits, and at least a half a dozen that Bruce can see have tiny silvery barbs knotted into them. He takes a deep, helpless breath, and lets it out all at once, his belly twisting with want and fear. “Steve, take his wrists and hold them out away from his body,” Tony says.

Steve, wordless, catches one of Bruce’s wrists in each of his hands and pulls them apart, his grip tight but not painful as he lowers Bruce’s hands to the bed. Bruce feels himself starting to tremble, and is unable to stop it. He thinks about the careful swats Tony had delivered to his cock last night with the riding crop, and knows that this isn’t going to be anywhere near as easy to take. The knowledge doesn’t stop him from wanting this desperately, maybe even because he knows it won’t be easier to take. Tony watches his face for several long moment, and then sets the short flogger to one side.

He picks up the last thing he’d brought over, and Bruce isn’t all that surprised to see that it’s a dildo. He had known telling Tony about the effect that toys had on him would be information Tony would use against him, and the buzz of humiliation in the back of his skull is just as acute as it always is when he’s faced with something like this, but it would be a lie to pretend he didn’t want Tony to know about it, about everything there is to know. Bruce knows what drives him, and humiliation is a part of that. That fact that Steve is going to see it makes it more humiliating, and Bruce’s trembling graduates to full-fledged shaking.

“Tony, he’s…” Steve says, sounding concerned.

“I know,” Tony interrupts sharply. “I know better than you do. But he needs it, whether he wants to admit it or not.” Tony flashes a look up at Steve as he says it, but doesn’t otherwise indicate that he thinks that there are things Steve needs that he won’t admit to. “Spread, Bruce,” Tony says, tapping at the inside of each of Bruce’s thighs with the tip of the dildo. Bruce slides down Steve’s body a little and spreads his thighs. The dildo isn’t huge, and it isn’t the same buttplug Tony had used on him last night, but it’s oddly shaped, with a pronounced curve. Tony snags the lube from the night stand and lubes the dildo up, though he does not lube or stretch Bruce for it. Tony slips the tip of the dildo against Bruce’s asshole, and Bruce breathes out a long breath and forces himself to go as loose as possible. Tony takes his time working the dildo into him -- and Bruce knows his face is bright red with humiliation -- but there is not really any pain, just some burn. Tony twists it once it’s inside him, and Bruce is abruptly aware of the reason for its odd shape. The flattened tip of the dildo rests directly against his prostate, and even the slightest movement is enough to shoot dizzying bolts of pleasure through him. He tries to imagine it in tandem with the little flogger, and can’t quite. He’s not sure he’s ever been set up quite so deliberately for this kind of mixture of pain and pleasure. It usually leans to one side or the other, but this…

Bruce shifts, and his hips jerk up, totally outside of his control, at the pressure of the dildo against his prostate. He feels his throat tighten, and fights it back. He doesn’t want to cry in front of Steve. At least, he doesn’t want to have to explain why he’s crying from something that is almost entirely pleasure. Once the flogger comes into play, he probably won’t be able to help it, but that is different.

“If it comes unseated, you’d better tell me,” Tony says, a warning in his tone. “It’s where I want it, it’s doing what I want it to do, and if you squirm around and it gets knocked out of place, you’ll tell me so that I can adjust it back. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Tony,” Bruce says, his throat tight with tears he’s refusing to shed.

“What’s it doing?” Steve asks, his hands around Bruce’s wrists giving him a comforting little squeeze.

“It’s wedged against his prostate,” Tony says picking up the flogger.

“I don’t understand why that’s a bad thing,” Steve says, sounding baffled.

“Bruce has issues with toys,” Tony says with a cruel little twist to his lips. The combination of the words and the expression sends a sizzling spiral of humiliated lust zinging through Bruce. He keeps his eyes on the flogger. It's the only safe place to look. “Put your legs back down, Bruce,” Tony says.

Bruce does, and a roll of pleasure radiates out from his prostate at the change in position. Tony is watching him closely, and seems satisfied that the dildo is still in a good position. He runs the strands of the flogger lightly through one fist. “Do you know what I’m going to do to you with this, Bruce?” he asks.

“I think so, Tony,” Bruce says, struggling to keep his tone even, though the fear-laced thrill of the idea of Tony flogging his cock with that thing is enough to overcome even the humiliation of the dildo in his ass.

“Still can’t come with the cock ring on?” Tony asks.

“I… I never have. I mean, dry orgasms, almost orgasms, but I’ve never been able to actually come. But… I’ve never been… it’s never been an almost equal blend of pain and pleasure before,” Bruce admits, and tries very hard not to move, not to let the dildo press against his prostate any harder than it already is. “So I’m not sure.”

“If you can do it, you’re allowed,” Tony says. “If you can’t, I’m interested in seeing you screaming your way through a couple of dry orgasms. And you’re going to scream. I considered a gag, but I want to hear you.”

“Yes, Tony,” Bruce agrees, and feels tears pooling at the corners of his eyes and threatening to spill down his cheeks. He wants to ask if he can take this flat on his back, rather than leaning back against Steve the way he is, but bites his lip and remains silent. Tony has already arranged the dildo and is using Steve for the bondage. Bruce doesn’t want to be presumptuous.

“Bruce, do you want me to flog your cock? This is not a soft tool. It’s going to leave you hurting,” Tony asks, but not as though he has any doubt as to Bruce’s answer. Bruce thinks he asking the question so Steve can hear Bruce’s answer.

“I know,” Bruce says. “I want you to, please, Tony.”

“Why, Bruce? There are easier ways to come by an orgasm,” Tony says, and Bruce is sure now that this is for Steve, not for Bruce. His face still burns a little at his own answer.

“Because it’s good to hurt,” he says. “It’s good for me to hurt for you because you want it and you want to see it and do it, and it feels good to me, the hurt is good for me.”

“The hurt is good for you because you like the pain, or it’s good for you because I like to hurt you?” Tony asks.

“Both,” Bruce says at once. “There wouldn’t be any point if it weren’t both, Tony.”

“Okay, Bruce,” Tony says, and leans in and kisses him hotly, all lips and teeth and wet tongue. A tear escapes Bruce’s left eye, and Tony tips his face off and licks it off his cheek. “Going to warm you up just a little. This will be short. I can’t work on your too long with this kind of tool.”

“I… I don’t know how long I’ll last. I feel like I could come right now,” Bruce says. 

“You don’t have to try to last,” Tony says. “Just lean back against Steve and let it happen however it happens.”

“There are pieces of metal in that thing,” Steve says, sounding uneasy.

“They’re blunted,” Tony says. “If I catch him just right he might bleed a little, but it won’t be much.” He cups Bruce’s cheek. “Ready?”

“Yes, Tony,” Bruce says, and can’t quite keep the eagerness from his voice.

“Hold him down, Steve,” Tony says, and draws back the hand with the flogger in it.

The first blow is really just a slap, but it’s enough, it’s hard enough and good enough to make Bruce jerk, which shoves the dildo against his prostate, which makes him jerk again and let out a little wail of surprise. The braided strands slap harder than the others, and the little twists of metal wrapped around the others catch at his skin and pull, and Bruce whispers, “God, Tony, harder than that, please, I need…”

Tony shushes him absently, but when he brings the flogger down again it _is_ harder, hard enough to make Bruce cry out, hard enough that that jerking of his hips jams the contoured dildo against his prostate so that he cries out again, and the tears in his eyes escape his control entirely and begin to trickle down his cheeks.

Tony does it again, and Bruce feels like he can feel each individual strand striking his cock, the ends skittering across his belly, and he tries to arch up into the next blow, which is a mistake, because the combination of the pressure against his prostate and the pain of the flogger against his desperately oversensitive and helpless cock is all it takes to send him into spasms of pleasure, a dry orgasm that makes him writhe around the dildo and sends waves of pleasure messages shooting out to every nerve of his body.

He does scream, as Tony had predicted, and then bursts into tears when Tony brings the flogger down again in the middle of the dry orgasm. He can feel himself pulling against Steve’s strength, but Steve holds him tight, and all he can do is jerk his hips up, spiking pleasure through him, immediately offset by the pain of the flogger, so that Bruce doesn’t know, can’t tell, what feels good or why, until Tony is just flogging his cock and Bruce is just jerking up into each strike, screaming sometimes in pleasure, sometimes in pain, sometimes in some mix of the two that he can’t untangle, and then he is shuddering through another dry orgasm, his balls tight, hard knots of need, and he wants to beg Tony to take off the cock ring, he wants to come for real, he wants the flogger again only more, harder, but he doesn’t ask for any of these things. He just jerks his hips up into every blow, each one dragging a scream from him, and he thinks he might be able to take it forever, he might be able to float right here on the cusp of orgasm forever as long as Tony doesn’t stop hitting him, and then Tony is ripping the cock ring off of his cock with one hand while the other rains blows down on his cock, and Bruce feels his body bow upward, his wrists straining in Steve’s grasp, and the dildo inside him is driving him insane, it’s like being turned inside out, the mixture of pleasure and pain, and when he does come he screams so hard that it feels like something might be torn in his throat, and his cock hurts, every tiny welt on it a line of fire, and still that pressure on his prostate, so that the orgasm seems shoved out of him, forced out in such an overwhelming wave that his vision goes a little gray and his body shakes and shudders like he might be coming apart at the seams, and if he believed that nirvana was a real place, he might think that he had reached it, and then Tony taps him with the flogger across his nipples, and Bruce groans in pain, and he is coming down from that high place, he is still floating, is still alight with pleasure, every nerve in his body ablaze with it, his cock aching and welted and wonderful, but he is aware of his body again, every place that it hurts, every sweet sting.

He becomes aware of Steve’s hands, having released his wrists -- his hands are lying limply on the bed where Steve had left them -- stroking his chest and ribs, Steve’s voice murmuring soft nonsense into his ear, and opens his eyes and sees Tony between his thighs, smiling at him, the flogger held loosely in one hand, his other hand working between his own legs, and Bruce watches Tony’s expression go from smiling to twisting with pleasure, and then Tony’s come splashes across Bruce’s cock and belly, joining Bruce’s come there. Bruce groans, watching Tony jerk himself off is so hot he can hardly stand it, and then Tony is gently spreading his legs and tugging the dildo out of him carefully, and Bruce is so lost in his body that he’s barely aware that he’s sort of sad to lose it, that it had been confusing, those bursts of redwhite pleasure that had pierced his whitewhite pain, but that it had been good, too, he’s not sure exactly why, but it had been like meaning to get a two beer buzz and accidentally working your way through a six pack. He knows that’s not right, that’s not what it was really like, but he can’t think well enough to think of what it was really like.

He becomes aware of Steve’s voice, mildly urgent, saying, “Bruce, are you alright, Bruce, can you say something, please?”

“Thank you,” Bruce says, with some degree of confusion as to what to say other than that, other than to thank them both for the hot aching flesh between his thighs and the low thrum of arousal that is still lurking in the back of his mind and in the pit of his belly. He becomes aware that he can feel Steve’s cock, a hard line pressed up against his back, and is happy in some undefinable way, something he’s not clear headed enough to pin down, that Steve had gotten hard while Tony flogged Bruce’s cock.

Then he’s aware of Tony again, cleaning up his belly and his sore cock with a warm, wet washcloth, which feels amazing and agonizing at once, and he realizes that he’s still hard in Tony’s hand, and is mildly amazed at it, considering the shattering force of his orgasm. “Yeah,” Tony says. “Don’t expect him to talk too much right now, Steve, he’s down deep.”

“Okay,” Steve says, “Okay, Tony, but are you sure he’s alright, he was really screaming and I could feel him crying…”

“Normal, for Bruce,” Tony says, and the washcloth goes away. “He loved every second of it. If he has any complaints, it will be that he could have taken more.” Tony sounds fond now.

“Could have,” Bruce says. “I can feel Steve is hard against my back.”

He feels sure this is something Tony should know, though he can’t think why just now.

“You can’t be that worried about him then,” Tony says with some satisfaction.

Steve doesn’t say anything for a long time, and Tony says, “Hey, hey, what’s that look for?” Bruce twists so that he can look up into Steve’s face, and even a little sideways he seems embarrassed and ashamed. “He got off on it, I got off on it. Is there some rule somewhere that says you aren’t allowed to get off on it?” Tony asks.

“Not sure why…” is the only part of Steve’s reply that Bruce catches, still floating on a tide of pain and pleasure endorphins and captured safely in the cradle of Steve’s arms. Bruce is aware of Tony and Steve still talking in soft voices, but he doesn’t feel the need to try to decipher their conversation. He’s fixated on the ache of his cock, and how his erection pulls the welts across the skin taut and makes each of them ache even more and he’s sure he could have taken more, he can tell, it hurts now, but the hurt of it will fade away in just a few hours, maybe leave him a little tender, but not hurting, and next time he will ask Tony to give him more, so that the welts stay around for at least a day.

He drifts for a while, unworried, and comes back when he realizes that he’s halfway to dozing off in Steve’s arms, and that he is thirsty, he had screamed himself hoarse. He shifts a little, feels that his erection has gone down to half-mast or so, but doubts that it will go down much beyond that as long as he can still feel the pain from the flogging, and shifts in Steve’s arms.

“Hi,” Steve says softly, and squeezes him in a little backward hug. “I wasn’t sure if you were awake.”

“I almost wasn’t,” Bruce says. “I was almost asleep, but my throat is dry. I need a drink.”

“Tony ordered take out for lunch,” Steve says. “He just went to pick it up from the lobby, he should be back any minute. I’m sure he’ll have a drink for you.”

“Is it lunch time already?” Bruce asks, feeling faintly surprised. “I feel like we just had breakfast.”

“It’s way past lunch time,” Steve says, and brushes Bruce’s hair off of his forehead. “But I know time doesn’t always run the same in certain headspaces.”

“God, ain’t that the truth,” Bruce says dryly, and Steve laughs. “God, I didn’t even get around to thanking him.” He raises a hand and scrubs at his face a little. “How unlike me.”

“You did give kind of a general thank you,” Steve says. “I don’t think he’s worried about it.”

“No. Probably not, but I’m worried about it. You thank your dominant when something has been very very good so that he knows where to put it on your personal scale of kinks. It’s as much to my benefit as to his,” Bruce says.

“I don’t think you need to worry about that, either,” Steve says slowly. “Tony was… not unclear as to how good that was for you. We talked about it after you… zoned out.”

“I heard you,” Bruce says. “I just wasn’t listening. I was letting my endorphins have their way with me. If either of you had spoken to me, I would have heard you.”

“I wasn’t criticizing,” Steve says seriously. “Just curious. I have been in the headspace. It just. It has never overcome me the way it seems to overcome you. I’m a little envious, honestly.”

“It’s been a long time,” Bruce says. “And I wasn’t fighting it. I can fight it off if I need to. But Tony was here and didn’t need anything from me, and you were holding me, so I was safe enough to let it just take me over for a while.”

“It was that good for you?” Steve asks, a note of something close to yearning in his voice. “Good enough to keep you in subspace for nearly two hours?”

“It would have been longer if I hadn’t realized I was thirsty,” Bruce says. “Usually that’s the first thing Tony asks me, but he was busy with you. Did he reassure you about whatever was bothering you?”

“Yes and no,” Steve says, tone low and thoughtful. “He mostly told me that it was more or less outside of our own power to determine what turned us on, and that I shouldn’t worry about getting worked up over something that had so clearly worked for both of you. That reacting to your reaction was probably what I was mostly doing, since I’m a sub and was watching another sub ‘perform.’” He says the last word like he’s not sure he likes the sound of it. “I’m not sure though. It wasn’t entirely your reactions that I was… I mean, some of them concerned me, like the screaming, but you were so obviously into what he was doing that it didn’t worry me as much as I thought it should have. And some of it was him. I haven’t seen him hurt anyone like he hurts you, and I can see the way it… it lights him up. Some of it was that. Seeing him lit up like that.” Steve shakes his head, though Bruce can only feel that he’s doing it, rather than seeing it, in the position he’s in. “I don’t know. I need to think about it more to really understand what I was responding to. Tony thinks I shouldn’t worry about it. That the things that turn you on aren’t ever good or bad, they just are, and what you decide to do about them is what makes them good or bad, but I’m not sure I buy that.”

“So you think less of me for liking pain?” Bruce asks, sure that Steve doesn’t, but a little hurt at the idea anyway.

“What? No! Of course not!” His arms tighten around Bruce, holding him close. “I think it’s gorgeous on you, and I’m impressed that you know yourself well enough to know what will work for you. Maybe that’s what I need. Some kind of way to figure out the things that all work for me, so that I can just figure it all out at once, and every little thing doesn’t seem like such a big deal.”

“Isn’t that what Tony is basically doing for you?” Bruce asks.

“Yeah,” Steve says softly. “He is. I’m maybe just a little impatient now, when I wasn’t before I saw how _you_ respond to him. Now I feel like… like I was just accepting what he was suggesting because I didn’t know one way or the other, and now I’m impatient with that method because I envy your subspace.” He gives a little mirthless grunt that might have been construed as a laugh. “Sorry, Bruce, I shouldn’t be complaining about this to you, I’m probably messing up your headspace.”

“You can always talk to me,” Bruce says, and fumbles around until he finds Steve’s hand with one of his and laces their fingers together. “I’m your friend, and the only other total submissive in the group, Steve. Of course you can always talk to me. You’re going to get a different perspective from me than you will ever get from a dominant, you must see that.” He runs his fingers over the backs of Steve’s knuckles. “I’m going to be able to tell you things that none of them will think of when you have questions.”

“Yeah. That seems like it should have been obvious, but I didn’t think about it. I asked Tony because I’ve always asked Tony everything.” Steve squeezes his hand. “Okay, I’ve got it firmly in my mind. I’ll make a list or something.” He squeezes Bruce’s hand again. “Tony is coming back. I just heard the elevator.”

Bruce had heard it too, but doesn’t mention it. If Steve wants Tony not to know about the conversation, which seems relatively harmless to Bruce, but which he recognizes might feel more personal to a less experienced submissive, then Bruce is willing to go along with it.

Tony comes in with his hands full of plastic bags and Bruce smells Chinese food, and is immediately and abruptly ravenous.

“Awake, are you?” Tony asks him, with a soft smile. “I thought you were going to fall asleep in Steve’s arms like a fuzzy baby animal.”

“I got thirsty,” Bruce says, and Tony nods and pulls a bottle of juice out of one of the bags and hands it to Steve, who twists the top off before passing it down to Bruce. Bruce guzzles it, the icy cold washing away most of the harsh feeling of having screamed his head off after having Steve fuck his throat. Enough discomfort remains for him to revel in, the way that he is aware that he does, but not so much that it’s truly painful. “Thank you,” he says, when his throat feels better, and catches Tony’s gaze as Tony is distributing food onto the table that Steve had carried in the night before. “Thank you, Tony,” he says, and gestures down toward his cock, which is still half hard and dense with pain.

Tony laughs. “It was entirely my pleasure,” he says, his eyes glittering. “If you’re willing to detach yourself from Steve, we should eat before it gets cold.”

Bruce, blushing a little, manages to struggle up into a sitting position so that Steve can lever his way out from behind him, and the meal goes much as the meal had gone the night before, with Steve and Tony taking the chairs and Bruce perched on the edge of the bed, hyper aware of his cock with every movement he makes. Tony has gotten plenty of everything Bruce likes, and for a while after he’s done eating, he just watches Steve eat, still a little startled, after all this time, at his caloric intake. If it bothers Steve to have them watch him eat it doesn’t show. Bruce is a little more present this time than he had been last time, but they still don’t talk much. Once he’s full and physically sated, Bruce feels very much like he’s in need of a nap, and he just blinks sleepily at Tony when Tony suggests that he take one.

Laughing a little, Tony gets up and pushes Bruce back onto the bed, arranging him with very little help and no argument at all from Bruce, and pulling the blanket up over him. Then he slips his hand under the comforter and strokes Bruce’s sore cock until Bruce whines in helpless pleasure and pain, kisses his cheek, and he and Steve clean up the remains of the meal. Bruce is asleep before they even leave the room.


	2. Advanced Physicality - Part Two

Sometime later, sometime when it’s almost dark, Bruce wakes up because he feels the bed dip under the weight of another body. He assumes it’s Tony, because who else would it be, but then, softly, “Bruce?” and it’s Steve. Bruce rolls over to face him, feeling a little groggy, his cock throbbing a little with the pain of the flogging and the desire that that pain immediately catapults him into. 

“Yeah,” he says, voice a little raspy, but he sounds mostly alert to his own ears, and Steve must think that he’s awake enough, because he scoots closer, first up on one elbow, offering Bruce a glass of water that Bruce accepts and drinks from gratefully, then dragging a pillow down to tuck under his head, and it’s just light enough that he can see Steve’s face, not fine details, but enough of it to see that something is bothering Steve. Bruce automatically reaches out for Steve, and Steve grips his hand hard for a long moment, holding it. His breathing is a little uneven, and there is a deep vertical furrow between his finely drawn brows. “What is it?” Bruce asks, keeping his voice gentle and quiet.

“What does it feel like to… to _want_ the pain? How did you know that was what you wanted? How is it different from wanting sex without pain?” Steve asks it all in a whispered rush, like he’s pushing the questions out of his mouth without taking the time to think about them. His eyes are huge, like he can’t believe what he’d just said, and then he rolls onto his back and tries to tug his hand out of Bruce’s hand.

Bruce doesn’t let go, and when Steve settles down and lets him keep the hand, he leans up and pulls Steve a little onto his side, as much as he can without using any real force, but enough that Steve, after a moment, rolls back onto his side to face Bruce under his own power. “I’m sorry,” Steve says hoarsely. “I shouldn’t have woken you. I have no right to ask.”

“Who else would you ask?” Bruce asks him, and Steve bites his lip, his eyes darting away from Bruce’s face down to Bruce’s chest, where there are probably lines of bruising still showing. Bruce isn’t sure if Steve’s enhanced vision is good enough to allow him to see the bruises, or if he just doesn’t want to look Bruce in the eye. “You can ask me anything,” Bruce says. “I won’t tell anyone anything that you don’t give me explicit permission to tell.” Steve’s brow relaxes just a little, just enough to know that it had been something Steve had been worrying about. “It’s hard to describe. It’s easier, if you want, for me to just tell you how it happened for me the first time.”

Steve’s brow relaxes a little more, and the line of his shoulders relax as well. His grip on Bruce’s hand tightens a little. “I don’t want to pry,” he says, but his tone doesn’t hide that he does want to know the answers to the questions that had tumbled from his lips.

“It’s a strange story, and starts off a little slow, and it’s been a long time since I’ve thought about it. So try to be a little patient with me.” He pauses and takes a deep breath. “Okay, so I had a roommate in college that was really into the scene,” Bruce says, thinking back to the boy, how he had seemed so much older than Bruce -- had been, in fact, older than Bruce, as Bruce had entered college at fourteen, had graduated at sixteen, and had gone directly for his masters in nuclear physics with a double bachelor’s that could have, and eventually did, easily shunt him into the doctorate program in biochemistry along with nuclear physics. “I was living off campus, getting my master’s, and we ended up roommates because the school was paying me to go there at that point, and when I didn’t want to live in the dorms with the undergraduates, they made sure I found a place off campus, even though I technically wasn’t old enough to live on my own. But I was doing cutting edge work, and they wanted me there, and so they found me a roommate with the understanding that he could mentor me -- he was getting his doctorate in biomechanical engineering, so not really what I was doing, but close enough on paper to make some kind of logical sense to anyone who might question the arrangement -- and I’m pretty sure he got all kinds of carefully worded suggestions that he take me under his wing and that he not expose me to anything that was inappropriate to my age, and all the kind of things you probably hear when you agree to take an underage prodigy on as an off campus roommate. I doubt he listened to them very hard. He got me drunk the first time, just me and him, in a safe environment, the two bedroom condo we shared, and then explained to me, after treating my hangover the next morning with a lot more patience than I probably deserved, that drinking wasn’t his recreational mood altering substance of choice because it impaired your ability to determine what you really wanted. I remember him saying it like that. Not that it was bad for me or that I might make bad decisions, but that it made it so you were not able to clearly consider what you really wanted. He told me that pot was better, a more lucid experience as long as you were moderate about it, and a week later he got me stoned, just me and him again, and I could tell what he meant. That it wasn’t that pot didn’t impair me, but that it didn’t take away the part of my brain that let me imagine consequences.

“After that, he took me with him to a few parties, always low key, just a few people, and it was a while before I figured out that these were sex parties. That we’d all sit around and get stoned and laugh at stupid shit and zone for random lengths of time, and that eventually, people would start disappearing into other parts of whatever house we were at, until it was just me and him. After the third or fourth time this happened, he asked me if I was straight, and it didn’t occur to me to lie. I told him I was bisexual, I was pretty sure, but that I was also lacking in any solid evidence that I performed well with either sex. He asked me if I wanted to find out. It was all easy going, all done with a total lack of any kind of pressure, as if it didn’t matter to him whether I said yes or no. I said I did, I was stoned, and I trusted him well enough by that point not to bother with lies, and he asked if he wanted to find out with him. He was good looking, and kind of exuded a sense of control that I had no experience with at sixteen, but I was never so stoned that I didn’t know for a fact that he was looking out for me. I didn’t have a crush on him or anything like that, but I was sixteen and horny and high and kind of flattered, and so I said yes. He took me home and took my cherry, and the whole thing was almost as good as everyone wants their first time to be. He was careful. He paid attention to what I liked. When you’re high, time doesn’t really feel the same, but it felt like it took hours, and he… well, he left no stone unturned, I guess. We did some of everything, in every combination. We would nap for a while, wake up, smoke a little, and start again. By the time it was over, I was no longer even a little bit a virgin, in any sense, except, I suppose, with a woman, vaginally. Everything else there was to do, I tried with him. Still a beginner, but a beginner with a clear idea of what I liked. We went to a couple more of the parties where people just sort of drifted away sometime during before I realized what they were probably up to, and once I did realize it and asked if he wanted to maybe find a place, he took me into a bedroom where two people were already having extremely energetic sex on the bed and fucked me on the floor, and when he was done, I realized that both of the people on the bed were girls, and they asked him if this meant he had let me off of his leash. He told them no, not yet, but that I had no girl experience, and they offered to remedy that. I was almost sober by that point, and a little embarrassed, but they looked like they meant what they said, and I was sixteen, and there were bare breasts and thighs and spread legs and I decided that it would be stupid to turn them down, and so I ended up in a threesome, with my roommate as an audience, occasionally telling one of them something I especially liked, and they were almost as patient with me as he was, showing me how to touch and where and how hard, and how it was different depending on the girl, and that it was always going to be different with every girl, and that meant it was my job to either ask, if it was that kind of situation, or to experiment until I was pretty sure I’d found the right way to touch and lick and bite and suck and fuck. They were very thorough, and later it occurred to me that it felt like something that they had done before, but it wasn’t something I thought much about at the time. At the time I just let it happen and took it all in. And after that, people at the parties were inviting _me_ to slip away from the party to fuck in a bedroom or bathroom, or, once, in a pantry, and I thought it couldn’t possibly get any fucking better than that.”

Bruce pauses and clears his throat. Steve shifts away from him for a moment, and then returns with the glass of water, still cool. Bruce drinks gratefully again, and then settles back down onto his side.

“The rest of it was a lot more abrupt, compared to the pace I had got used to when we went out. All of that happened slowly, over the course of several months. We didn’t go out all the time, sometimes we stayed in and either legitimately worked on school stuff, or just fucked around with each other. He was just easing me into the idea of it, I’m pretty sure, because he knew something about me that I didn’t know about myself, and he wanted to build my trust up in him before he acted on what he thought he knew. One night, we didn’t smoke at all, and he asked me what really got me off with another guy, fucking, or being fucked. I knew he already knew, because I had fucked him a few times, but mostly I let him fuck me, but it felt like a loaded question, and so I really thought about it before I answered him. I was honest, though, and he nodded, and said he had a place to be that night, and that I didn’t have to go with him, but that it was different from the usual scene, and if I came with him, I was going to have to stick to him like glue, because if I looked like I was available, I was going to end up profoundly fucked by someone who didn’t even care what my name was or that I was a prodigy. He told me that this wasn’t the same kind of safe that the parties he’d been taking me to were, this was something different, but that he was pretty sure it was different in a way I would like, and as long as I stayed with him, he would make sure nothing I didn’t want would happen to me. And that was the first time I went to a BDSM party. 

“I was completely overwhelmed at the same time that I was more desperately turned on than I had ever been in my life. I was shocked for maybe ten minutes and then just trying to get my head around it for another half an hour, and that… that was hard for me. I was a genius, it didn’t usually take me very long to assimilate and execute new information, but it was all so different. And things were going on all around us, this wasn’t a private party, this was an exhibition event, and I was completely fascinated. I knew I wanted it before I’d been there an hour. Not what, exactly, but everything I looked at I could imagine having done to me. I was terrified and exhilarated. People would just come up to me and touch me, even with my roommate right there, one hand wrapped around my wrist the whole time, I was kissed more often than I had been in the rest of my sexual experience combined, I was fondled, slapped on the ass by what seemed like every person there, I was felt up, and twice I was slapped in the face. When he took me home, I was so hard up I thought I was going to die, and he told me he had been pretty sure about me from the beginning, but that he wasn’t looking for a permanent submissive -- I knew what the word meant, but I was still struggling to put it into context -- and that he was pretty sure that I wasn’t looking for a permanent dominant. But that if I wanted, for as long as we were roommates, we could fuck around and he would teach me things, as long as it was understood that he liked me, was attracted to me, found the idea of ‘training me up’ interesting and engaging, but that we weren’t ever going to be a real couple. That it wasn’t love, and if I was looking for love from him, it would be better that we didn’t do anything else at all. In a lot of ways it was perfect. I didn’t love him, but I liked him, and he’d gone to some trouble to earn my trust in a way that must have curtailed some of his own appetites, and I was completely sober, but felt stoned by all that I had seen and all the things that people, strangers, had done to me, that I didn’t even really hesitate. I didn’t even ask him questions about what he was going to do, which was out of character for me enough that he noticed, and asked why I wasn’t asking, and all I could think to say was that it had all looked like what I needed, that I hadn’t seen anything that scared me enough to tell him I wouldn’t want it, so it seemed pointless to ask what he was going to do to me. He grinned a little, and told me to strip, and it was an order, my first order, and I was doing it before I even realized that that was what it was. The first thing he did was prop a knee on the bed and bend me over it and spank me until I cried and came all over his jeans. Then he fucked me, harder, better, than he ever had before, and held down my wrists while he did it, and I cried and came. Then he took me into the bathroom and helped me clean up, and that’s when all the talking happened. He took me back to bed and told me things and answered my questions and relayed stories of things that had gone wrong, so that I knew that things could go wrong, and we talked about safe words and bondage, and I asked everything I could think of about bondage and about masochism, and he talked to me about being Safe, Sane, and Consensual, and warned me off of certain clubs, and asked me not to go anywhere without him as long as I lived with him, not because he was jealous, but because it wasn’t safe, at the same time that he told me he’d do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted with whomever he wanted, and that it wasn’t really any of my business. I got it though. We were not equals, not because he was a dominant and I was a submissive, but because he had experience, and I didn’t. He got to make the rules because he understood the rules and I didn’t understand even a fraction of what I wanted or how I wanted it.

“I lived with him for just about two years, and near the end of it, he started to trust me to go out on my own. But the answer, the real answer to the question you asked, is that I was exposed to it and I saw things I would have never imagined, and those things turned me on. I didn’t know if I really wanted the pain or if it was just the idea of the pain until I actually did something that involved pain for me. Wanting it was all in my head until I actually got it, and then it was like being unchained.” Bruce stops talking and takes another drink of water. The furrow has appeared between Steve’s brows again.

“So the only way to really know is to do it. But when you first saw it, you already knew you wanted to at least try?” he asks.

“Yes,” Bruce says easily. “And as for the rest of it. It’s not that different from picking out what you probably do already, Steve. Sometimes you want sex, and sometimes you want to fuck, and sometimes you just want to sleep knowing that when you wake up, you won’t be alone. It’s just that for me, sometimes I also want pain. I can’t tell you how it feels to want it except that you have to accept that it might be something you want if seeing it affects you. And then you have to decide what it is you want about it. Do you want to be the one doing, or do you want to be the one done to?”

Steve’s face goes bright red in an instant, but Bruce pretends he can’t tell in the dimness.

“What about if you just like watching. Like Thor,” Steve asks, his voice a little unsteady.

“For some people, voyeurism is their thing. It satisfies something in them. If it satisfies something in you, then maybe that’s all it is. If you’re still left… yearning, then it probably isn’t,” Bruce says. They are both silent for at least two very long minutes. Finally, Bruce says, “If you don’t want to be hit tomorrow, Steve, nobody is going to hit you. Nobody is even going to be upset that you don’t want to be hit. But if you think you want to be hit, and you’re not sure what to do about it, tomorrow is pretty much a perfect opportunity for you to find out. Tony and Coulson can be trusted to keep it to themselves and never hold it against you, no matter how you react, and neither one of them will expect you to change the current parameters of their relationships with you without you explicitly stating that you want them to be different.”

Steve is flushing again. This time he’s chewing his lip, brows drawn together. “So,” he says. “Even if I like it, you don’t think either of them will ever ask me to do it again?” Steve almost whispers.

“No. If you wanted it again, you’d have to ask for it. There are reasons you might physically get off on it, but be emotionally or mentally unable to reconcile that within yourself, lots of reasons, a different reason maybe for every person who has ever been in that situation, but it doesn’t matter. If you don’t want it, whether you physically responded to it or not, then neither of them will even _want_ to do it to you. Okay, that’s not quite true. They might want it because they’re built to want it, like I’m built to want to give it up to them. But for this to be good for Tony or for Coulson, or, I’m willing to bet just from my own personal interactions with the team, any combination of them, then it has to be good for everyone involved. They don’t want to do you real _harm_. What they they do want is to inflict physical pain on you in a way that is good for them and for you, but not if it’s going to hurt you in some other way, someplace in your head or your heart. If you find out tomorrow that you physically react positively to pain, but you don’t want to explore that, they will both be okay with that. Or even if you’re just not ready to explore it right away. Neither of them would ever take advantage of a submissive, most especially not you. They… they love you. They all… the whole team, we _love_ you.”

Bruce says the words before he really hears them. He knows they’re true even as they’re coming out of his mouth. And he realizes that they apply to _him_ just as surely as they apply to Steve. It’s a crushing revelation, almost a blow, and he blinks impatiently to forestall tears, and realizes too late to do anything about it that he’s squeezing Steve’s hand as though it’s a lifeline.

Steve’s expression says that he knows more or less the rush of shock and pleasure and fear and joy that have just struck Bruce all at once, and he leans forward and kisses Bruce, just a simple kiss, soft press of lips, warm and gentle, and then he pulls back.

“You’re,” he says, voice a little choked, “different. You don’t turn into a giant green rage monster.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Steve says, his voice sweet and kind, like an audible hug. “Don’t let yourself talk you out of accepting their love. None of them give it easily, you know. None of them are the sort to love indiscriminately.”

“I feel like I don’t…” Bruce chokes off the next word, trying to work it through in his mind, trying to excise the whole phrase from his mind. He isn’t stupid, and he knows when he’s thinking wrong-headedly. He wants to trust them, and if he is ever going to trust them, he has to get over the idea that he can’t _be_ trusted. 

“You _do_ deserve it,” Steve says with pinpoint accuracy. “As much as any of us do, Bruce. We’re all fucked up.” The profanity sounds strange in this context coming from Steve. Steve doesn’t swear, excepting when they are maybe in the middle of a sex act, in which case he doesn’t seem to feel like it counts as swearing. “Every one of us has problems. My problems were so bad that they drove me into a gay alternative lifestyle relationship with a man that, I thought at the time, didn’t actually like me very much.”

Steve’s face is open and bleeding emotion, raw and urgent, both for himself and for Bruce.

“Why did you think he didn’t like you?” Bruce asks, bewildered by the idea that anyone might think Tony didn’t like them. Tony likes everyone.

“He never touched me,” Steve says after several seconds of silence. “When he first offered to top me, I thought he was screwing with me. I didn’t respond… well. After that, he never touched me, and when it started to get bad enough that I really started thinking about his offer and what it might mean for me, he hadn’t touched me in months. I thought I had offended him. When I went to him, when I gave up the struggle to be okay on my own, without his help, I was pretty sure he would tell me no. I was sure I had blown it when I had… turned him down the way that I had. He was in the workshop. He stopped what he was doing, and said ‘Are you telling me that you want me to help you find your feet in the here and now? Are you telling me that you think I can help you that way with sex?’ And I was prepared for it to be an attack, but it wasn’t. Every word was careful. He was spelling it out for me, to make sure I meant what I said, to make sure I understood what I was asking. And I just nodded, I couldn’t even look at him, and he locked down the lab and put his arms around me. And I just sort of collapsed against him, I don’t even remember what I said, and he held me until I could put together real thoughts again, and then he said, ‘Let’s take this to the bedroom. There is no reason in the world to do this on the floor of the lab.’ And he took me to bed and he was careful and he asked every time he did something if I liked it, and I finally kind of blew a gasket and told him to stop asking and just _do_ it, and he did, and it was great. It was liberating. And the next day he told me about safe words and he had cleaned out my room, and my room was so important, and it was so important that he knew it somehow, when I didn’t know how to explain it myself. That first few weeks after I started sleeping with him, I would sneak down to my room after everyone else was gone so I could sleep, because I knew Tony wouldn’t let anyone come in and see me there, wouldn’t even tell them I had a secret room in his bedroom, and I could sleep without dreaming of the ice. Tony helped me drive the ice away. He helped me connect myself to the present with people, first, and then with all sorts of other things, history and pop culture and rock and roll bands and I don’t know,” Steve gasps in a little breath, lets it out harshly, and sucks in another. 

Steve shivers all over a full body shudder, and he is almost whispering again when he says, “I feel something when I see what he does to you, I… what word did you use? I _yearn_. But I don’t know if I want to. I don’t know how that makes me feel about myself, or my sense of self. I keep telling myself that it doesn’t matter. You are a genius and also kind and careful with people, and it doesn’t change that. But I’m afraid that I’ll like it, and that it might bleed over into things like combat missions and team missions, and I couldn’t stand messing up like that.”

“It isn’t like that,” Bruce says at once, with perfect certainty. Steve stares at him, his eyes glittering, listening without speaking. “If it _was_ like that, unexpected pain wouldn’t trigger a transformation for me into the other guy. Into the Hulk. It’s all wrapped up in sex, in bodies flexing, in the pleasure for me, and the pleasure I can see on Tony’s face. It’s like your safe room, Steve. It’s just another outlet, like your safe room, that you may find out you like, but only when you’re _safe_. I promise you, it’s never going to carry over. It doesn’t work like that. If it did, chances are I could control my transformations that are brought on by surprise and pain. But there is no… no bleed between the two situations. You’ll see tomorrow. Even if you don’t like it, you’ll be able to tell the difference,” Bruce grips Steve’s hand tightly. “Even if you find out it’s only the idea that you get off on, and the reality doesn’t work for you, you’ll be able to see the difference between this and combat.”

Steve’s eyes are wide and bright with tears he is deliberately holding at bay. “Do you _promise_ , Bruce,” he whispers. “I don’t have anyone else to ask.”

“I do promise, but you _do_ have other people to ask, Steve. Clint is a switch. Tony has been known to sub, and he’d always do his best to clearly answer any question you asked him. I’m betting you could ask almost anyone on the team, and any of them would tell you the same thing. And… if you try to draw parallels like that, it’s almost the same as saying the fact that Tony and Coulson are sadists in bed, in private, sexual sadists, that they’re more likely to do cruel or sadistic things during combat, or just in general. Do you think for a second that that’s true?”

“No!” Steve says, sounding shocked. “Of course not, they…” Steve stops talking and then shakes his head, clearly dismissing the idea as ridiculous. He stares at Bruce’s chest for a few seconds, and then looks back up into Bruce’s face, looking almost embarrassed. “I’m afraid of the pain, too,” he says unsteadily. “I’m afraid I’ll like it, but I’m also afraid I won’t like it. I’m afraid of it. And. It’s just this kind of pain I’m afraid of. Pain taken in this way. Because I was a soldier and I got hurt, and I’m not afraid of getting hurt again in the field, but this is different. I am afraid of this pain.”

“So am I,” Bruce says. “I want it, but I’m afraid of it every time. Right before, I always have to fight off my own fear. Once it’s happening, the fear just dissipates, but it’s… it’s anticipation and fear, all mixed up together. Do you feel that now, about tomorrow?”

“I’m terrified of what I’ll do tomorrow,” Steve says, and rubs a hand across his face. “I’m terrified I will like it, and I’m just as terrified that I won’t but, I.” He shakes his head, buries his face in one of Tony’s pillows for a few seconds, and then looks back to meet Bruce’s eyes. “I have to know, now. What he did to you today… I couldn’t keep from thinking of how it would feel. You were screaming, but Bruce, you weren’t struggling against my hands holding you down. You were arching _up_ , into the blows. You were screaming, and I could tell it hurt, like real, genuine pain, but you… You wanted it, and when he stopped, I could tell you wanted more. I have to _know_ , now. I saw you last night and today, and now I have to know. I feel a little crazy not knowing. And I’m afraid I’ll find out I _don’t_ like it almost as much as that I _do_ like it.” He rubs at his face again. “I don’t know which one to want and it’s making me feel a little crazy. How do you deal with feeling like this all the time?”

“It’s not all the time,” he says, and untangles his hand from Steve’s for a minute just to push Steve’s hair off of his forehead and then cup his jaw. “Right now it only seems like all the time for me and Tony because I’m newly collared and he wants to know everything he can possibly do to me and with me, but he won’t hit me and hurt me every night. At first yeah, because we’re both new and exotic for one another, and we want to know all the ways that we fit together, but it will ease up once we are more used to being together. But you won’t feel like this all the time. Once you know, you’ll see. And if you find out you like it, you can still decide not to do it, or not to always do it. You don’t sleep with someone for sex every night, do you?”

“No. Sometimes I sleep in here, and sometimes Natasha likes someone to cuddle. The others, too. Except Clint. Clint always wants sex. I sometimes just sleep when I sleep with them. And they come to me sometimes too, if I’m in my own bed. Sometimes for sex and sometimes just so they won’t wake up alone.” Steve is blinking rapidly. “So this… this way I feel right now, this driven feeling, it will settle?”

“How often did you have sex with Tony at first?” Bruce asks. “No, don’t answer, it doesn’t matter. My point is, I’m betting it’s less now, now that you’re more stable, now that you don’t need as much of a touchstone.”

Steve seems to think about it for a long moment, and then nods. “Yeah, okay. So this is just nerves.” He takes a long, slow breath and lets it out just as slowly. “This is just the way new things seem to take over everything else until you get used to them.” He takes another long, slow breath. Then he huffs it out and buries his face in Tony’s pillow again. He stays there for most of a minute, and then rolls his head to the side so that he’s facing Bruce. “Understanding that in my head isn’t really helping the rest of me, or even helping most of the rest of my head,” he says, his voice a little too unsteady to pull of the dry tone Bruce thinks he’d been going for.

“We could try for some kind of distraction,” Bruce says. “Call Tony in, you can hold me down while he makes the stripes on my thighs into X’s.” He’s at least half-serious; whatever Steve need to help him calm down right now would be fine with Bruce.

Steve quirks a smile at him. “Bruce,” he says, and squeezes Bruce’s hand. “Thanks for… for listening to me have a meltdown.”

“Do you feel better?” Bruce asks.

Steve pushes himself up to one elbow. His hair on one side of his head is rumpled from the pillow, and he closes his eyes for a long moment. “Yes. I mean, I still feel fairly frantic about tomorrow, but it’s… on a smaller scale, I think? I want it to be over, so I’ll know, but most of what I was worried about was stuff that you reassured me about. Like being compromised during combat, or about how Tony and Coulson will treat me if it turns out that I get off on being hit.”

“If you do, do you think you’re going to want them not to hit you?” Bruce asks, genuinely curious.

Steve looks genuinely bewildered. “I don’t know. I… I want to have that option. And if I had been thinking clearly, it’s obvious that neither of them would have pushed it if I had said, ‘thanks, but no thanks,’ even if I ended up liking it with my body, but not liking it in my head. But the reasons for not liking it in my head seem a lot less likely now, and. I might take a few days to think about what things I did or didn’t like about it, but I won’t rule it out entirely in the future, if tomorrow is… good. I’ll just... wait and see.” He pauses, eyes flickering to Bruce’s chest, then to his mouth, then back to meet his eyes. “Maybe it won’t matter. Maybe I’ll hate it.”

Bruce does not think Steve is going to hate it. He decides not to say so. Instead, he says, “Don’t rule it out entirely even if it hurts more tomorrow than you find out you like. A caning is hard. I sincerely doubt Coulson is going to go easy on us. There might be other ways you like to be hit, but just not as intensely as the caning will hit you. I mean, you might find out that a belt works for you because it’s not as sharp as a cane, so don’t just take tomorrow as the only chance you have at finding out whether or not you like pain. There are other ways of taking pain that aren’t as… as intense as a caning. Am I making any sense at all?” Steve, blinking slowly, like he’s trying to really understand what Bruce is saying, finally just nods. “Does Tony know you’re in here?” Bruce asks, finally thinking to wonder, because he has kind of a crazy idea.

“No.” Steve has the good grace to look a little ashamed of himself. “I waited until they were all caught up in the holographic pool tournament, and snuck in. Think he’ll be mad?”

“I doubt it,” Bruce says. “If he notices you’re gone, he’ll probably think you’re in your room.”

“I should go to my room,” Steve says quietly. He’s chewing on his lower lip again. “I want to. I mean, I don’t just want you to… to fuck me. Tony made it sound like that was all I thought about when I thought about doing things with you, but it’s not just that. There are lots of things I’d like to do with you.” He says it like it’s a confession, his tone low and a little uncertain.

“Can I ask you something intensely personal, that will tell me things about you that you won’t understand that you’re giving away if you answer me honestly?” Bruce asks.

“Yes,” Steve says, his voice barely a whisper.

“Tony says that he’s given you a couple of playful spankings. The first time, when I asked, in the lab, if you had any pain kinks. He said a little playful spanking. Did you yellow out of those spankings? Or red out of them?”

Steve quivers a little, a minute tremble that travels the length of his body. “Yes,” he says. “I said yellow almost as soon as he started, and then he went slower and it hardly hurt at all, but when it started to sting I said red.”

“Did you do it because you didn’t like it, or did you do it because you were embarrassed?” Bruce asks.

Steve’s eyes cut away from Bruce’s face, hovering about midway down Bruce’s chest for several seconds. It’s too dim in the room now to see if Steve is flushed -- full dark had fallen outside as they had talked -- but Bruce is willing to bet that he is.

“I was… uncomfortable,” Steve says, obviously struggling to find the right word, apparently unwilling to commit to embarrassment, though Bruce is willing to bet that embarrassment had played the premier role in Steve safe wording out of those experiences. 

“Because of the pain, or because of the way it made you feel?” Bruce asks.

“Because I didn’t like the way it felt like I was being punished for something,” Steve says, but he still won’t quite hold Bruce’s gaze.

“So the needles were okay with you because they didn’t make you feel like you were being punished for something?” Bruce asks.

“Yes,” Steve says. “They were, I liked the needles a lot.”

“Does he tie you down?” Bruce asks.

“No,” Steve says.

“So you only submit to a dominant to whatever degree doesn’t make you feel ‘uncomfortable,’” Bruce says. “You slip into submissive headspace so easily because the dominants in your life don’t push you to give up any part of yourself that you want to keep to yourself.”

Steve opens his mouth like he wants to object, but then closes it, his brows furrowing again. “You sound like that’s a bad thing,” he says finally. “If I am getting what I need from them, why do you make it sound like I’m doing something wrong?”

Bruce considers that for a long moment, then decides to be as straightforward with Steve as he can be, and to try to do it without being cruel. “Because it isn’t just about you getting what you need, Steve. Or it shouldn’t be. It should be about them getting what they need, too. If the only reason you’re having sex with Tony is because you needed the stability that the sense of being dominated gave you, and he’s okay with that, then there is nothing wrong with it. But if it’s not just that, then it’s a cheat for both of you. If Tony tried to spank you, then there’s a fairly strong chance that he thought you might _need_ to be spanked. And I have to tell you, I’m inclined to trust Tony’s judgement on that score as it applies to anyone, including myself.” He pauses because Steve shivers again, not really shivering, not a continuous shiver, but just one tremor that travels the whole length of his body. “So if you stopped him because you liked it and didn’t want to admit it to anyone, including yourself, then you cheated both of you out of something that would have let you connect on more than the most superficial of dom/sub levels. You wanted it to stay safe and simple. And if that’s what you both agreed to, and that’s what you’re doing, and that is all of what you really want to get out of your time with Tony or Coulson, then there really is nothing wrong with it. They both knew you were an inexperienced sub going into it, and they would have already have been ready to accept your limits while still giving you what you need. So you haven’t done anything wrong, really. Except if you have more to give and you’re holding back because it’s ‘uncomfortable’ for you, then you haven’t really learned anything new and potentially life altering about yourself.”

He expects Steve to mount some kind of defense, but instead Steve closes his eyes and says, “I know.” He inhales deeply, and then sighs it out. “I have been afraid. I know that there is… more to this, but I have been afraid to find out how much more. I have seen Clint when he’s been really dominated, I can see there is a difference. But I haven’t wanted to know what I might be like if I let things go any further than they have. But seeing you do it is different than seeing Clint do it. Clint is… I don’t know. Natasha says he’s a pushy bottom. I see how he is, and I don’t want it to be that way. It wasn’t until I saw how you were that I thought that I might be able to… to let go, like that, like you do. It’s so obviously good for you. You sink down into it like it’s the world’s softest bed. What Clint does looks different, and I never wanted it that way. But seeing you sink down… it made me think of it being maybe that way for me, too.” He opens his eyes, and looks at Bruce. “I’m still afraid.”

“But you’re going to let Coulson deconstruct you tomorrow anyway, even if it turns out that you don’t respond well to that level of pain,” Bruce says. It’s not really a question, but Steve swallows hard and nods. “You’re doing the right thing,” Bruce says. “Even if it turns out that you don’t like pain, or that you don’t like that _much_ pain, you’re doing the right thing. It will make you look at what you want or don’t want, and I honestly can’t believe Tony has let you get away with this kind of superficial submission for all this time.” And it’s true, Bruce really can’t believe it, even though he can sort of see the why behind Tony’s allowing it to go on this way. Bruce’s crazy idea itches at him, and he just thinks for a long moment, testing his own internal feelings about it, wondering if he has the capacity to try it. 

He thinks he does. He thinks he might be the only person Steve might let show him a little about it, before tomorrow, before the real pain.

“I told him from the beginning that I didn’t want to be tied up,” Steve says. “I stopped anything involving pain as soon as I started to feel… like I was slipping, in my head, from it. Except the needles. The needles were different. They were not like slipping. They were like taking a step down, a solid step, nothing that felt like I was losing my grip on pieces of myself.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know why. As soon as he asked if he could do it, I agreed. I knew they wouldn’t be the same.”

“Well, caning isn’t going to be the same, either,” Bruce says. “And if they are smart, they will tie us, at least our hands, to keep us still because caning is a hard party, Steve. They might let you just hold onto something instead, if you have been very vocal about not being tied up, but if I were you, I’d volunteer to have your hands bound. Let yourself take a step back from your body. Let yourself put your body into Coulson’s hands for real, not this halfway thing you’re doing which is good enough to keep you going, but not anywhere near what I think that you _could_ get out of it. I think you’re going to find out that slipping in your head isn’t bad the way you think it is. Coulson and Tony are there to catch you, you know. That’s what your dominant is for.”

“Neither of them ever… they never pushed for more,” Steve says quietly.

“That’s also what your dominant is for,” Bruce says. “To give you what you need and take what you’re able to give, and to let that be enough. For either of them to have pushed you, you’d have had to give them some reason to think you’d want to be pushed, and you had already safe worded out of the things that they would have used to see what you really need, deep down, where you don’t think about it.”

“I haven’t been fair to them,” Steve says after a long moment of silence. “I’ve been leaning on them for support, but not giving anything back.”

“No, that’s not true,” Bruce says quickly, squeezing Steve’s hand tightly for a moment. “You’ve been giving them your trust and your body and your time and believe me, those things are worth a lot to them. But I think you could give more, and I think if you did, you’d get more out of it yourself.” He shifts closer to Steve and lets go of his hand so that he can wrap it around the back of Steve’s neck, and kisses him hard, kisses him in a way that doesn’t come naturally to him, but that he can still do, that he understands well enough to… project. Steve sighs out a sound of want and just lets his head fall back and be kissed, not resisting in any way, participating just enough to demonstrate that he likes the kissing, that he wants it. “We should go to your room,” Bruce says, as he pulls back and looks into Steve’s blue, blue eyes, and hopes that his crazy idea is genius-crazy and not humiliating-for-everyone-involved-and-likely-to-get-Bruce-punished-by-Tony-if-it-doesn’t-work-crazy.

“Why?” Steve asks, clearly feeling a little lost at what must seem like a big shift in the topic at hand.

“Because your room is a safe space for subs, which also means it’s a place where we can do things to each other, fool around, I guess,” and Bruce can feel himself flushing, but doesn’t stop, “without it being a kind of insult. Doing it in our dominant’s bed is a kind of insult to him. This is… it’s _his_ domain. Your room is your domain. Tony says he doesn’t go inside at all. It means he gives you free reign to do whatever you want in there. And I want to give you a spanking. I want you to let me spank you, and I don’t want you to let yourself cry off as soon as you start feeling it in your head. You don’t have to let me. I still want to go to your room, because I want to make out with you and maybe suck you off, and just do things with you, but mostly I want to see if you can let me spank you so that you’ll have a frame of reference for what is going to happen tomorrow. So that when Coulson hurts you, you can compare that to what I do to you tonight, and can see that there is a lot of space between one kind of pain and the other, and that you might like some of it without liking all of it.”

Steve stares at him, his eyes huge, but there is a glitter there, a flicker of something other than fear. “Okay,” he whispers, so quickly and without protest that Bruce is a little taken aback, and rolls out of bed and onto his feet, and walks over to the door to his room. He turns the light on even as Bruce is rolling out of the bed and down to his knees, crossing the floor the way he’s supposed to do it even though Tony probably would never know, though it _would_ be just his luck for Tony to walk in right as he was on his feet behind the knee line.

Steve watches Bruce crawl over to the door to his room, brow furrowed slightly again. “You don’t have to do that for me,” he says.

“It’s a rule in this room. I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for Tony, because he asked me to do it for him. Just because he isn’t actually in here right now doesn’t mean I shouldn’t still do it the way I’ve been asked to do it.” Bruce slides past Steve’s legs and into the small room. There is something soft under his hands and knees, something other than carpet, but the sheets and comforter in here are twisted up so haphazardly that he can’t really tell what it is. Just that it covers pretty much the whole floor. The room is bigger, too, than Bruce had realized. Both deeper and wider. He hadn’t been paying that much attention to it, he guesses, the first time he’d seen it. He’d been too wrapped up in what was about to happen to him, or, almost as likely, had no understanding of Tony’s idea of what size a walk in closet should be.

Steve sinks down to his knees beside Bruce. “Should I be doing that?” he asks.

“Not if he hasn’t told you to,” Bruce says, and rubs at Steve’s shoulder gently, pressing with just one hand to loosen the muscle there, and both of Steve’s shoulders relax a little in response. “You and I don’t get the same thing from Tony. Your submissive relationship with Tony is a lot less demanding than mine is. Probably because you didn’t need it to be as demanding, and probably in part because it was your first time, and he didn’t want to put you at that kind of a physical disadvantage when you were just learning, just admitting that you maybe needed to learn. There might be other reasons. Maybe he just likes seeing me on my knees. Maybe it just gets him off, and he made it a rule because he can. Because I’ll let him.”

“I feel a little… cheated,” Steve says, his voice hoarse.

“Tell him you feel that way. It will probably make his day. Telling a dominant that you are starting to feel like you want to exhibit _more_ submissive behavior is like telling them they’re doing it right, if you get what I’m saying. That you’re settling into the headspace, and that you think there is deeper headspace you could get to.”

Steve looks kind of baffled. “It’s that easy? I just say it?” He flushes, but bulldozes on. “I just admit that I kind of want to have to be on my knees in the places that you do, too, and he’ll be okay with it? Will be…”

“He’ll be pleased and proud and turned on,” Bruce says. “If you don’t think you can say it, the knee line is just about four feet inside the door. A lighter color strip of carpet. If it’s too hard to just say, you can just do it. Just stay down. I’m betting it won’t take him very long to notice.”

Steve is trembling a little. “Can you kiss me again. I’m starting to feel like my subspace is retreating.”

Bruce not only can, but does, and does it the way Tony would do it, grabs Steve by both shoulders and shoves him back against the wall so that Steve huffs out a surprised little breath, and then attacks Steve’s soft and cooperative mouth with his lips and teeth and tongue. He feels it when Steve settles back into some measure of subspace, feels the trembling ease, feels him lean into Bruce’s hard kisses, and Steve’s hands come up and stroke across his chest and thighs, not touching his cock, but apparently Steve is normally allowed mostly unchecked access to Tony’s body with his hands, and Bruce is a little jealous, but then he realizes he has been tied down ninety-five percent of the time that he’s been with Tony so far, so he doesn’t even know if he’s allowed the same kind of free access. It’s good though, Steve’s hands are reverent without being timid, and Bruce has to keep what he’s doing right in the front of his mind or else risk being pushed into subspace of his own from the petting.

When he pulls back, Steve’s mouth is flushed red and swollen, and his eyes look like they had in the workshop that first day, like he had fallen into the right headspace without any kind of need to really be pushed. He smiles at Bruce, gaze a little bashful. “I… I want to do things with you, Bruce. We should know each other’s safewords. I mean, you know I do yellow and red with Tony, but in case things get turned around somehow and I end up fucking you, I should know your safeword.”

“Defenestration,” Bruce says, because Steve is completely right, they should know how to stop each other in the event that things need to be stopped. “The green, yellow, red is for brand new subs or subs you don’t intend to spend a lot of time with. You don’t qualify for the first anymore, and I’m betting at least two of the dominants still in the tower will still be wanting to spend time with you. You should pick something that means something to you.”

“Ice,” Steve says immediately. “How do I tell them? Do I just say?”

Bruce is a little uncertain about that, and asks, “Do they ask you if you are still comfortable with the red, yellow, green fairly often?”

Steve seems to realize what that means almost as soon as Bruce says it, as he looks a little miserable as he flushes. “Almost every time. They ask because they want to know if I’m still… s-superficial.” He stammers out the last word and his eyes are bright and glassy looking, his face a little crumpled with guilt and an obscure kind of pain that Bruce recognizes, has felt, knows intimately. The pain of not having pleased your dominant. That Steve can feel it is a relief, an assurance that whatever he hadn’t been willing to do before, he hadn’t ever meant to deny Tony his genuine submission. 

“Not superficial. Just not ready for anything more. And part of that is their fault, not yours,” Bruce says softly. “They should have told you that any time you wanted to try something to push you a little deeper into your subspace, that you should ask for a real safeword.”

“But I backed out of all the ways they would have tried. More than once. And so they assumed that I was where I wanted to be with my subspace. And I thought so, too, until I saw you in your subspace.” Steve trembles a little, full body, but just for a moment, again. His eyes are still lucid. Bruce would guess he’s at about a three point five or so, and maybe has never gone lower than a three at all, using Tony’s scale.

“Yeah,” Bruce says, and strokes both hands down Steve’s arms, just for touch, for comfort, though Steve’s cock jumps when Bruce does it, and the skin Bruce’s hands pass over ripples with goosebumps. “You made it hard for them to push you. And it’s possible that you needed them not to push you at first, Steve. You should think about that. You didn’t really do anything wrong. You backed off from things that scared you, but maybe if they’d tried again a little later, you wouldn’t have backed off. And now you’re here with me, and I’m not even a top, and I can see on your face that you’re going to let me push you. That you want it. Maybe you didn’t know how to want it until you saw all of what it could really be. And that’s nobody’s fault, really. Though I think Tony would have eventually pushed you again, because it’s part of who he is.” Bruce doesn’t mention the discussion he’d had with Tony about Steve in the massage room. He’d promised to keep that between them, and he’s not lying. He’s just not mentioning that Tony has known Steve had depths that Steve hadn’t been ready to see. The caning tomorrow is probably at least half a genuine scientific experiment for Tony, but it’s at least a quarter wanting to learn how to cane Bruce, just because he wants to know, and the other quarter is probably giving Coulson his chance to hurt one or both of them, because he knows Coulson badly wants to. And then there is a tiny little bit left that wants to use it to push Steve, and see if maybe he resists the small ways that Tony had been testing the bounds of his submissiveness, to see if maybe something bigger would actually make Steve plunge into subspace, instead of just skimming along the top layers of it without ever realizing that it went deeper and further, and that he could have it and that it would be good.

“So tell me your safe word, Steve,” Bruce says.

“Ice,” Steve says at once, and his eyes are soft focus and sweet, and Bruce can see the appeal of having Steve like this even if he never went any deeper.

“Okay. I’m going to kneel here, with my legs apart, so that you can lay over my left thigh. You’re too big for my whole lap, and this room isn’t setup to compensate for that, so you’re going to have to prop yourself up over my bent knee.” Bruce punctuates the instructions with gestures, sees the little eddy of uncertainty in Steve’s eyes, and doesn’t give him time to think. He grabs both of his wrists and pulls him forward and to Bruce’s left, and Steve’s knees on the soft surface beneath them slide a little, and Bruce thinks he might have to muscle Steve entirely into position, and then Steve is actively shifting them, lying with his cock pressed down against the inside of Bruce’s bent leg, and his upper body balanced on his elbows, so that his ass is presented up across Bruce’s bent knee, and he has to spread his legs a little to find a place to rest his knees so that he is more or less stable in this position. He’s heavy across Bruce’s leg, but not too heavy. He’s taking a lot of his own weight. And if this works, but Bruce’s leg happens to go to sleep during, that’s a risk Bruce is willing to take.

“If it’s easier, you can pretend I’m Tony or Coulson,” Bruce says, and gives into the urge to stroke his right hand along the dense curve of muscle of one of Steve’s ass cheeks.

“No,” Steve says. “I know this isn’t what gets you off, but you’re still willing to do it for me, to see if I can get off on it. I don’t want to pretend you’re anyone but you.”

Bruce flushes a little, pleased, but admits, “This is not normally what gets me off, Steve, but if you think having you stretched out across my leg so that I can give you a spanking is in any way bad for me, then you are wildly mistaken.”

Steve actually lets out a breathy little chuckle. “So noted,” he says. Then, in a slightly less steady voice, he says, “I’m ready.”

Bruce doesn’t start hard, although he thinks he could, and Steve would take it that way, but he remembers his first spanking vividly, and part of what had made it good had been that it had built slowly and steadily from a point that barely hurt, was mostly just the feeling of his skin getting warmer and warmer, to the point where he was actively squirming away and into and around, so turned around in his head that he hadn’t known what his body had wanted, and he wants to recreate something like that for Steve.

So he starts slow, firm but not hard, and Steve lets out a little gasp, but doesn’t try to move away, and Bruce just covers Steve’s ass in blows that are little more than swats until his ass is pink and warm, and Steve is shivering, his head bent and resting on his folded hands. Bruce strokes Steve’s buttocks gently for a minute or so, soothing, and starts again harder than that, hard enough that Steve tenses at the first blow, though his cock stays hard where it’s pressed against Bruce’s folded leg, and stays tense through half a dozen blows, his back a hard line, and then he sort of wilts across Bruce’s thigh, back and shoulders going loose, and Bruce doesn’t stop, just keeps it up until he starts to hear Steve’s breath hitching just faintly, a little hitch of breath at each blow, and he doesn’t pause to soothe Steve this time, but braces his free hand firmly along Steve’s lower back and it’s still not that hard, nowhere near as hard as what Bruce can take, but Steve is not Bruce, and this is all new for him, so something Bruce would say was about medium, and the little hitches of breath Steve is letting out become tiny little cries, not even quite cries, but just the shapes of cries in breaths. Bruce’s cock responds to those not-quite-cries, his whole body responds to them, and he thinks of Steve hearing him scream, that Steve _knows_ that it can hurt that much, and takes a chance and goes a little harder and a little faster, and listens to Steve choke and struggle at the same time that Steve rocks his hips for the first time, rubs his cock up against Bruce’s leg with something more deliberate than the way it had been slowly rocking against his skin just from the motion of Bruce’s blows, and Bruce doesn’t stop now, not now that the sounds Steve is making are coming out in actual short, hoarse cries of pain, not now that Steve is rocking his hips, trying to grind this cock against Bruce’s leg for more friction, until Steve starts to shudder and cry, gasping at breaths between shouts and letting the shouts out with sobs. Bruce is fairly sure Steve isn’t going to be able to come from just the friction of his cock against Bruce’s leg, so he switches hands, though he doesn’t have the same kind of aim or power behind the blows with his left hand, and slides his right hand down between Steve’s legs and curls his fingers around Steve’s cock, and Steve says, “Please, Bruce, Please,” in such a wretched, gorgeous voice that Bruce’s cock jerks and his balls tighten at hearing it, and he lets Steve thrust his cock into Bruce’s fist, still spanking him, though not as hard or as steadily, but enough for Steve to shudder and beg,” Please, can I, Bruce, can I,” and Bruce hadn’t realized it had been a request before, because Bruce isn’t a top and doesn’t think about those sorts of cues, but it makes sense that Tony has Steve ask for permission to come, if nothing else.

“Yeah, Steve, come on, you’ve been so good, you’ve been perfect, you can come for me now,” and Steve shudders across his thigh, his whole body jerking hard and tight, and Bruce doesn’t stop spanking him even as he feels Steve’s cock jerk in his fist and spatter come against his thigh and calf, doesn’t stop until Steve goes limp over his leg, breathing hard and still crying a little, and then he eases Steve off of his leg, which is not asleep, but which is in danger of cramping, and onto his side, and lies down next to him. Steve wants to hide his face in the crook of his elbow as he shudders through his tears, but Bruce wipes his come slick hand across Steve’s reddened ass, which makes Steve hiss in surprise and pain, and then uses it to grip Steve’s chin and turn him to face Bruce. His eyes are still streaming tears, but Bruce can see the softness there, in his face, in his body, once Bruce gets him to turn, and Bruce pulls him close, kissing his brow and his hairline and murmuring, “That was good, Steve, that was so good to do to you, you were so good to let me take you apart like that,” and Steve’s breath hitches once hard, and then he’s jamming his face into the crook of Bruce’s neck and shoulder, and hitching out little sounds that aren’t quite cries anymore, but are definitely things he needs Bruce to comfort him through.

Bruce cradles him against his chest and strokes a hand down his back, all the way down across the over-heated flesh of Steve’s buttocks again and again, and Steve gasps each time, but he’s winding down, his breathing is evening out and that little hitching sound is almost all the way gone, and then he’s panting out, “It was good, Bruce, it was good, it felt…” and he dissolves into tears again, but these don’t last as long and don’t seem as debilitating, and Bruce gets it, has felt these kind of tears, relief tears, amazement tears, triumphant tears, and Bruce just holds him tucked up against his body until they pass, too, and eventually Steve’s breathing is mostly normal, and Bruce’s cock is a dense ache between his thighs, but he is mostly okay with that, this hadn’t been about that.

Steve pulls back a little, and Bruce lets him go, still smoothing one hand along Steve’s side and hip, but willing to look Steve in the face if that’s what Steve needs right now. Steve’s face is tear streaked and his eyes are red, but there is so much naked gratitude in his face that Bruce feels himself flushing a little, as though he’s somehow not supposed to be on the receiving end of a look like that, like looks like that should be reserved for Tony or Coulson or Natasha, or anybody, really, that isn’t him. He isn’t a dominant, to have a submissive look at him like that, and he doesn’t know what to do about it. Steve lifts a hand and brushes his fingertips across the top of his left cheekbone, where Bruce can still feel the heat of his own blush, and then Steve’s raising up on one elbow and kissing him there, and then on his other cheek, his brow and then, softly, his lips.

“Thank you,” he says, and pulls back to look at Bruce again. Some of that naked gratitude is still there, but it’s softened somehow, gentled, maybe because Steve understands why it might have made Bruce uncomfortable.

“You were perfect and lovely,” Bruce says a little gruffly, because it’s true, and because Steve’s cheeks heat and he casts his eyes down, looking up at Bruce from under his lashes. That look is enough to make Bruce’s head spin a little with inappropriate lust, and he turns away, toward the door, thinking, mostly, of the glass of water they had left in the other room, and looks almost directly into Tony’s face, where he is crouched down, outside Steve’s room, not even that close to the doorway, and almost invisible in the dark with the lights on in Steve’s room and off in the main bedroom.

Bruce opens his mouth, not sure what to say. He can’t really see Tony’s face, he is mostly in shadow, just the shape of his jaw and the gleam in his eyes. He hadn’t been breaking any rules. Tony had flat out told him that he could do whatever he wanted with whomever he wanted, and even if he hadn’t, this room is a sub’s space, and if they’ve invited another sub into it, the accepted rule is that they can fuck around, if they so desire.

“Tony,” Bruce says, and Steve jerks and looks up, following Bruce’s gaze. He doesn’t see what expression is on Steve’s face because he’s too busy trying to make out Tony’s expression in the darkness of the room outside of this one, but he feels Steve start to tremble against him, and puts an arm around his back, pulling him into Bruce’s body a little, a protective gesture. “It was my idea,” he says, and hears the uncertainty in his own voice.

Tony says, “What did you say to him, to make him let you turn him over your knee?” He doesn’t sound angry. There is an edge to his voice, but it’s not anger. He knows a lot about how Tony’s voice sounds when it comes to sex, and that edge isn’t anger, it’s hunger. It’s want.

“A lot,” Bruce says, because it had been a lot, but then adds, “That he never gave you the chance to see if you could take him deeper. That he only let his dominants take what didn’t make him uncomfortable. That he should let me show him what a little hurt now will be like, so that he understands that there’s a lot of room between a little, and being caned.”

“I didn’t mean to cheat you,” Steve says, sounding miserable. “I didn’t understand until I saw Bruce in his headspace. I didn’t mean to be a bad submissive.”

“You weren’t a bad submissive,” Tony says, voice gentler now, though that edge of hunger hasn’t entirely left it. “You were a new submissive. You were a submissive in distress, and I couldn’t risk adding to that distress by pushing you further than you were willing to go until you were more sure of yourself, and of me. You took what you were ready to take and stopped me when you weren’t ready for more. That doesn’t make you a bad submissive. It means maybe I wasn’t as vigilant a dominant as I should have been this last few weeks at least, that I should have seen that you were ready to be pushed harder. I have no good excuse except…” Tony looks at Bruce.

“I don’t think I would have been ready, Tony,” Steve says. “Maybe we could have made it work anyway, you know more about it than I do, but seeing Bruce was what made me think I might want more. I didn’t mean to do this now. I only wanted to talk about it with Bruce. But…” He lets the sentence trail off, and Bruce feels a brief flicker of amusement over the fact that Steve doesn’t want to rat him out as being the precipitator of the spanking.

“I told him his sub space was his own space that he could do anything he wanted to in. If I’m wrong about what it means that you gave it to him, then that’s on me,” Bruce says, wishing Tony would come closer, so that the light from Steve’s room could illuminate his expression, but he also understands why Tony isn’t coming closer.

“Bruce,” Tony breathes. “Jesus, Bruce, you’re not in _trouble_. Steve’s space is his own, and you and he have the right to do anything both of you want in it. I just came in here to check on you, and I didn’t expect to see… I’m not sure I would have believed you had it in you,” he says. “Not to top him, not the way he was, I thought you could probably do that, but to convince him to let you spank his ass? I’m not mad. I’m impressed. And I’m turned on. And I’m not allowed to come into that room, which is probably for the best, since I’m not sure what I want to do to either or both of you. I wish I’d come in earlier. I only caught the last ten or twelve minutes.” Tony shakes his head. “Do you need anything?” he asks, and Bruce has to bite off the immediate ‘you’ that wants to come tumbling off his lips. 

“Maybe drinks. Steve, are you hungry?” Bruce asks.

“No, not hungry yet. Still feeling pretty loose.” He glances up at Tony and then tucks his face into Bruce’s side. “I wish you’d turn the light on so I could see your face,” he says. “I feel like I’m… I don’t know. At a disadvantage as long as I can’t see what you are looking at me like.”

Bruce never would have asked, but Bruce and Steve are different kinds of subs. A successful spanking experiment doesn’t change that.

Tony says, “Lights, fifty percent, Jarvis,” and then they can both see Tony’s face, the way his eyes rove over both of them, and linger on Steve’s bright red ass, and the obvious pleasure in his dark eyes, nothing bad there at all, nothing to be worried over. “What do you want to drink?” he asks, his gaze warm when it meets Bruce’s. 

“Something with alcohol in it,” Bruce says. “But nothing too strong. But not beer. Maybe a whiskey sour?”

“I can do that. Steve?”

“I’d take a beer,” Steve says, his eyes fixed on Tony’s face, and Steve’s face is bathed in a kind of revelation, the abrupt understanding that Tony can do what Bruce had just done, and probably better, and that Steve could ask for it, and that he isn’t afraid or ashamed, just… ignited, a little. Warmed into desire by the possibilities. Bruce can see the unfolding of the possibilities on Steve’s face.

“I’ll be right back,” Tony says, and rises smoothly out of his crouch to his feet and walks out of sight of the door.

Steve feels Bruce looking at him, and turns to look back. “It was good,” Steve says. “I mean, it was _more_ than good. Like something I didn’t know I needed being suddenly given to me. Thank you. I can’t, I should have something better to say, and I know it’s not your usual… role, I guess, but it worked for me. I was down deeper, and I could even tell that there was more below where I was, and that I might want that, too.”

“You’re welcome,” Bruce says. “But trust me, it gets better than this. Just remember this tomorrow, if the pain from the caning is more than you like. That there is still some pain that gets you off, and that Tony knows how to find that level and help you find the place where it’s perfect for you. I’m strictly an amatuer at this. This is actually my first time.”

Steve’s brows arch in surprise. “You didn’t seem nervous,” he says.

“My first time doing it,” Bruce says. “But I’ve had it done to be so often that I know how to do it from the other side pretty expansively. Besides, you needed for me to be steady. I’m not a top, not really, but I can be steady.”

Tony returns with their drinks, setting them on the carpet just outside the door to Steve’s room. Bruce struggles into an upright position and retrieves his, downing half of it in one swallow, letting the warmth of the alcohol travel down his throat to expand in his belly and warm him there. Steve doesn’t take his right away, just lies on his side and looks at Tony, clearly thinking over what he wants to say. Tony seems to recognize this, too, as he doesn’t say anything, and waits, attention fixed on Steve.

“I’m ready to do better,” Steve finally says, voice low and a little unsteady. “I’m ready to let you push me, and I think I want to stay on my knees for you in here like Bruce does, and I’m still scared of being tied down, but I’m ready to let you try it anyway. I’m sorry for holding back from you.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Tony says immediately, his voice firm. “You took what you could and you were clear about what you didn’t want, and it’s important that you be able to do that, just as important as being willing to let me push you and find out if we can take you further into your subspace than you’ve gone before. I was never disappointed in you, Steve. You have never been less than what I wanted. I knew when I offered you this, that you were inexperienced and that things would be scary for you. You haven’t done anything wrong. _I’m_ sorry that I was so busy planning on how to get my hands on Bruce that I missed whatever signals you were putting out that I should have recognized as meaning you were ready to do things differently.”

“I don’t know if I was putting out signals,” Steve says, and struggles up to sit cross legged and look Tony in the face. “It wasn’t until I saw Bruce’s subspace that I even really understood that there was more to it than what I was getting from the people that I let top me. I thought that as long as what we were doing was working to keep me on an even keel, that it was enough for everyone involved. It didn’t occur to me that you might want more, or that Coulson…” He pauses, eyes going a little wide. “Oh God, Coulson,” he breathes. “I must have driven him crazy.” His eyes are wide with remorse and he sounds genuinely both guilty and sorrowful.

“Coulson didn’t have any exaggerated expectations of what you were capable of when he took you to bed,” Tony says gently. “He asked for my permission, and I told him what you would allow and how far you would go.”

“Asked for your permission,” Steve repeats, his brows drawing down into a frown, and Tony quirks a smile at him.

“What did you expect him to do, Steve? As far as he knew, I was your top. You don’t poach from another top. You didn’t become the team bicycle until later on.”

Apparently Steve doesn’t need the term ‘team bicycle’ explained to him, as he flushes hotly, but is also smiling just a little. He leans forward and picks up his beer and takes a drink.

“That said, I think Coulson probably does want to push you, and badly. I don’t know if he suspects that you have the capacity to go deeper, or if it’s just his own appetite that makes him want that, but I’m telling you because you need to be very honest with Coulson about how far you’re willing to go now that Bruce has managed to ease you past your first big roadblock. I don’t want you going into it thinking that he can flog your cock and you’ll like it because you’ve seen me do it to Bruce, and Bruce liked it. You are not the same as Bruce. Different things will make you react different ways. Bruce can take a lot of fairly brutal attention and get off on it. You may not be able to take quite that much. But if you let him, Coulson is a very talented dominant. If you went to him and told him you could give him more, but you didn’t know how much more, he will be able to guide you into things until you find your limits.” Tony gives him an intent look. “Honestly, I think maybe bondage is more of what you’re looking for, rather than straight pain. Pain, yes, but bondage was the first thing you told me was not okay, before we’d ever done anything, before we even had our clothes off. I think deep down, you know that bondage is more than okay, that it could be close to perfect, and you weren’t willing to give that over to anyone at that point.”

Steve looks away from Tony’s intent gaze, eyes dropping, cheeks flaming almost bright enough to give merit to Tony’s theory from that reaction alone.

“Either way,” Tony says, voice gentler, “Coulson would give almost anything to be the one to teach you everything there is to know about what you want and what you need. And if you don’t want that, then I’ll do it, but you’ll be picking it up a little more slowly, because I have other responsibilities. And you don’t have to choose one or the other. You just have to be honest with Coulson that you’re still going to be letting me top you sometimes. Because if you let him, he would take you to his suite and neither of you would be seen again until you had a fairly detailed understanding of the things that work for you. Also, whichever you decide, you should tell him about your room in here. That you need a policed space of your own. He will probably let you take advantage of this one while he puts something together for you in his suite, and then will let you use whichever one you want, once you feel like the place he made for you is safe the way your room in here is safe.”

“You make it sound like…” Steve says, and then shifts with a little wince, and changes positions so he’s sitting on his knees, ass barely resting back against his heels, which Bruce finds slightly funny, because seriously, he had not spanked Steve that hard. Then his mind flashes back to the first time he had been spanked, and how it had felt, and is pretty sure _he_ hadn’t been spanked that hard either, and feels guilty for finding amusement in Steve’s freshly discovered disadvantages to the aftermath of liking pain. He realizes a little belatedly that Steve had never finished that sentence, and that he’s staring down at the bottle in his hand, chewing on his bottom lip.

Tony looks as serious as a heart attack, as serious as Bruce has ever seen him. “Sound like what?” he prompts.

“Like… like he might want me just for him,” Steve finally manages to get out in choppy little bursts.

“He would collar you tomorrow if you told him you wanted his collar. He’d do it knowing no more about you than he does right now, nothing about your little spanking experiment, knowing that you will only let it go as far as _you_ decide, and no further. He’d do it knowing that he was cutting away a part of himself, possibly indefinitely.”

Steve’s eyes flick up to Tony’s deadly serious face, and then back down to his bottle. “Because I’m Captain America,” Steve says, his voice a little twisted on the last two words, almost making them into something negative.

“No,” Tony says. “I don’t doubt the first time he topped you, he got a thrill out of topping Captain America, but you’ve never been The Captain in his bed or under his hands, Steve. You’ve only ever been Steve Rogers. He knows the difference.”

Steve doesn’t look up. Because Bruce is sitting slightly lower than he is, with Steve up on his knees and Bruce with his ass on the floor, he can see the slight shine to Steve’s eyes, the twitch in his jaw, and the tiny flash of hope that darts across his face.

Tony says, “You don’t have to, you’re in your space, Steve, you don’t have to do anything, but I’d like it if you came out into my space for ten minutes and laid down on my bed on your front and let me do something.”

“What are you going to do?” Steve asks, his face cycling rapidly through too many emotions at once to make any of them out until curiosity finally settles there, and with it, a little spark of something that might be close to anticipation. Bruce is frankly a little relieved to see it there. He had done this for Steve, and he had been happy to do it, but he can’t do much more for him. He’s not built to really dominate Steve the way Steve needs it to be.

“I’m going to ask you to trust me to do whatever I want during those ten minutes,” Tony says.

Steve’s eyes flick up to Tony’s face for an instant, and then he hands his beer to Bruce, and crawls out of his room. He knee walks with perfect grace across the carpet, and then, confronted with how high Tony’s bed actually is for the first time, from floor level, rather than from his 6’2” or whatever, he frowns. “Can I stand up to get in the bed. I don’t see how I can do it from my knees.”

“Yes, and you can stand up any time you’re in the bathroom, as well. It’s just this main area where I like my subs on their knees, and obviously the bed is too tall for you to really manage it without standing up. It’s interesting that you asked, though,” Tony says.

Steve stands and crawls onto the bed, shoving the comforter over to one side, and then lying down on his belly one hand curled under the pillow under his head, the other lying splayed and helpless by his chest, palm resting on the mattress. “Why?” Steve asks.

“Because it’s the first time I’ve really seen your military training peek through during any kind of a scene,” Tony says. “Okay. Don’t move. Bruce, you can do whatever you choose, as long as you don’t decide now would be a good time to fuck Steve.”

Bruce chuckles a little at that, and Tony shoots him a little smirk, and then Tony gets up and Bruce braces their drinks against the wall in Steve’s room so they don’t spill, and goes out of the door in Steve’s room just in time to see Tony leaving the penthouse bedroom entirely. Steve’s whole body goes stiff and tight, and Bruce climbs up onto the bed and loops an arm around Steve’s waist and murmurs, “You have to give him some of your trust. Hasn’t he earned that much at this point.”

Steve takes a deep, unsteady breath, and then lets it out, and his body relaxes as he exhales. “Yes. He’s earned a lot more than some of it. He’s going to bring Phil back with him,” Steve says, fear shredding a little of the calm out of his voice.

“I think so, too, but I’m willing to bet almost anything that he has a good reason for it,” Bruce says. He shifts so that the whole front of his body is pressed up against the side of Steve’s, and Steve continues to breathe in deep, slow breaths, forcing calm in a way that Bruce, for all his immensely more wide and varied experience, has never been able to master, but he can tell it’s working. Steve’s ass is still bright red. Lying out like this on Tony’s bed, it’s really obvious that someone had given him a spanking.

Maybe two minutes pass, maybe as many as three, and the door opens, and Coulson comes in with Tony on his heels. He stops just inside the doorway, surveying Steve from heel to crown, his face so blank it almost does the opposite of conveying blankness. It’s so blank that it’s totally clear that he’s hiding something complex and huge behind that blankness. He walks over to the bed and goes down on one knee, putting his face on a level with Steve’s, or even a little lower. “Why did you say yes?” he asks Steve, his tone as gentle as his face is blank.

“Because… because I saw Bruce’s subspace when he took things that I wouldn’t have ever even thought of doing, let alone that they might be good to do, and I could see that it was more than what I was getting. And Bruce… we talked about it, about my submission being… superficial, and I was pretty sure I didn’t want it to be that way. But I was still scared, and Bruce said that we could try anything in my room, in my private sub space, and not get in trouble, and he wanted to spank me because he thought it would be good for me to know that there was a lot of space between… this level of pain, spanking pain, and the kind that you’re going to do to me tomorrow, and that even if I found out I didn’t like that much pain, it might not mean I didn’t like any pain. And because I wasn’t scared to ask Bruce about what it feels like to want the pain, and I trusted him when he said that even if I physically liked the… the caning, but it wasn’t good for me in my head, neither of you would want me to do anything that wasn’t good both ways. And because he doesn’t want to hurt me, not really, so that letting him do it was, really, only about how I felt about it.”

Coulson nods, the blankness had receded somewhere about halfway through Steve’s babbling confession, to be replaced with an intensity that Bruce recognizes. It’s the way that Tony looks at Bruce. And Bruce hadn’t doubted Tony not really, but his breath still locks up in his throat for a moment when he really understands that Coulson would like to be more than Steve’s top, dominant, even more than the man who might want to collar Steve. There is happiness in Coulson’s eyes, pleasure at Steve’s pleasure, at Steve’s babbling honesty, at everything Steve is and does. Coulson really would collar Steve without ever trying to push Steve to take more, despite the way that would almost completely eliminate Coulson’s innate sadism, because Coulson is totally enamored of Steve.

“When did you know that you liked it?” Coulson asks Steve, low and gentle, stretching out one hand to push a lock of Steve’s hair back from his forehead.

“Almost as soon as he started,” Steve admits in a whisper.

“Can I touch you?” Coulson asks.

“Of course,” Steve says, as though he really believes that it should be obvious, and that’s when Bruce starts to think that the level of emotion might not be the same on both sides, but that the basis of the emotion is there, to be built on.

Coulson splays his hand across the middle of Steve’s back and slides it slowly down to his ass. Steve makes a small noise of discomfort, but Steve’s breath is also hitching a little unevenly. Coulson slides his hand to the left and cups Steve’s ass cheek firmly, and then to the right, to do the same thing to Steve’s other cheek. Steve lets out a little panting sigh, and Bruce can’t see his face, but he’s betting it’s soft and open with that easy submission that he shows so readily. Then Coulson stands up and presses his right hand in between Steve’s shoulder blade’s, clearly meant to hold him down, and reaches into his jacket pocket to produce a small, flexible leather paddle. It’s narrow and short, maybe nine or ten inches long, the handle only another four inches, and apparently narrow enough to fit inside Coulson’s inside jacket pocket -- which faintly amazes Bruce, does Coulson carry that around with him all the time? -- and he draws it back and brings it down across Steve’s ass without a warning or a disclaimer or anything. Steve jumps and chokes out a hoarse noise, but he doesn’t object, and Coulson doesn’t stop. He spanks Steve’s ass with the miniature paddle, or maybe being all leather it’s more of a strap, but either way, he uses it, first on both cheeks at once, in the middle of the Steve’s ass, and then on just the left cheek, until Steve lets out a little cry, and bucks up against Coulson’s restraining hand, and then Coulson merely switches to the other ass cheek.

Bruce had been too astonished by the whole thing to think to count blows, but it couldn’t have been more than a dozen in each place, but now there are white welts rising up to criss-cross the red skin of Steve’s ass, not many, but they are there, and Steve is making a low, nonsensical noise that sounds like he is half-crying and half-moaning. But it doesn’t sound like an objection. Coulson slides the leather paddle/strap thing back into his coat, and then cups the cheeks of Steve’s ass with both hands, his thumbs stroking along the new welts, and the noise Steve had been making turns into a low groan, but it still is a half and half noise, half pain and half pleasure this time. Coulson lets go of Steve’s ass and then goes to one knee again beside him on the bed. The hand that isn’t tucked under the pillow under Steve’s head twitches, closes into a fist, and then grabs at Coulson, not to pull but like it’s looking for an anchor. Coulson catches Steve’s flailing hand in both of his and then carefully, without any sign of self-consciousness at all, he kisses each of Steve’s knuckles.

“Are you hard now?” Coulson asks, and Bruce realizes that his face had never been anything other than gentle after he’d asked to touch Steve, not even while he’d been hitting Steve, and it’s still gentle now. His voice, though, his voice is velvet lined with something sharp hidden in the rich folds of the fabric, something that Bruce responds to helplessly, his cock, which to be fair has been hard since he’d spanked Steve anyway, jerks between his thighs at the sound of it.

Steve doesn’t answer right away, he’s still breathing roughly, making soft sounds of pain or pleasure or both, but Coulson just watches him, waits with that same gentle expression. Steve finally breathes out, “Yes,” in a way that seems to want to be an accusation and a surrender both at once.

“I would want you to promise never to lie to me,” Coulson says. “I would want to know if you stop me, the why behind it, whether it’s physical or mental, or something in between, or if you don’t know the why, and just felt overwhelmed. I would want to know everything. And if I think you are lying to me, I will punish you.” A shudder runs through Steve’s entire body, and his breath hitches. “Just with that, for now, because we know you can take it, but that may change once we have a better idea of what it is you need. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

“What about Tony and Bruce,” Steve says. “I don’t want to stop being with them.”

“You don’t have to stop anything that you’re doing now,” Coulson says. “This is for you to try, for me to teach you, this is for you to find out what you want with all your polite layers of civilization sliced away, and I will never do anything to you that I don’t explain to you first, and you can spend as much time with me doing this, or as little, and I know that some days it will be more and some days it will be less. And you will need a real safeword, and you have to have the will to use it when it’s appropriate and the strength not to use it when the only thing stopping you is yourself.”

“Ice,” Steve says, and his breathing is almost back to normal, and he sounds almost calm.

“Do you need a safe space in my suite?” Coulson asks. It’s the first time that his voice has sounded tentative.

“I would like to have one,” Steve says. “I can come here and use this one most of the time, but if I need it after we… do things that make me… I don’t want people seeing me going between your suite and Tony’s if I’m… upset or… I don’t know what word I’m looking for.”

“I understand what you mean, though I hope that you’ll never have to use it the way you’re thinking you might have to. Have you ever used your sub room here because of anything Tony has ever done to you, or that I have ever done to you?” Coulson’s tone is even, his expression almost bland, but he looks to Bruce like he might be one second from an explosion.

“No!” Steve says quickly. “I’ve only ever used it because I needed a place to be quiet and not in charge and not in public. I don’t want a space in your suite because I think I’ll need it to escape you, or anything you do to me. Just. A place where I can go and think about it, and if working it out in my head makes me feel… vulnerable. That’s the word. I need a place I can go where I can be vulnerable, and I don’t want to go from your suite to Tony’s feeling vulnerable, and maybe see someone in between and have to answer questions when I only want to think about what we did and why it was good or not good. I’m not sure I’m explaining it very well.”

“No, you’re explaining it very well,” Coulson says, all the explosive-potential gone from his face and his body language. “I can do that. Is a small room better?”

“Yes,” Steve says at once. “Something small and… and cozy.” Bruce can almost hear the blush in Steve’s voice.

“Do you want to do this with me, Steve?” Coulson asks, and he’s bland again in that way that almost defeats the purpose of trying to be bland. Bruce kind of wants to tell him that the _degree_ of blandness is actually working against him. That it’s only making it _more_ obvious that he feels strongly in some way about something.

“I want to do what I’m doing now, still, but I also want to… try things. I want you to show me more things. But I can’t promise you I’ll like to do the things you want, Phil. I don’t want you to be disappointed,” Steve says softly.

“I only want what you’re willing to give,” Coulson says. “You will never disappoint me.” He sounds so sure of it that Bruce feels Steve relax a little where he’s still pressed against Bruce’s chest. Coulson lets go of Steve’s hand, and Steve lets it hang there in the air for a moment, and then reaches out for Coulson again, sliding his hand under his head down so that he’s propped up on that elbow. He catches Coulson’s tie, and gives it a cautious tug, and Coulson smiles a little indulgently, and leans in to kiss him, one hand holding him firmly by the back of the neck. It isn’t long, not quite a lover’s kiss, but Steve’s head falls back and Coulson’s knuckles go white holding him up under it, and then Coulson is standing up and straightening his suit and tie. 

He looks at Bruce then, and Bruce feels the magnetism of him. “Thank you, Bruce,” he says seriously.

“I’m glad it worked out for you, but I did it for him. He needed to know,” Bruce says, because he’s not willing to lie.

“It doesn’t matter how it worked out for me. It matters that you saw what was there, and you acted to bring it out into the open. I’m not denying that that is probably going to be good for me, but even if I’d never found out about it, it was something that someone needed to help him find out. So thank you for being that someone.”

“You’re welcome,” Bruce says, and bites off the ‘sir’ that wants to tack itself onto the end of the sentiment. Coulson smiles like he hears it anyway, turns to Tony and bends down to give him a short, but very thorough kiss, which Bruce feels is hot all out of proportion to the actual kiss and can’t quite figure out why, and then lets himself out of the bedroom.

“I’m betting he’s either going straight to his room to jerk off, or looking for Clint so that he has someone to take what he wants to give right now,” Tony says, almost conversationally.

For a moment, the expression on Steve’s face seems to indicate that he’s considering going after Coulson himself. Then he slumps face down onto Tony’s bed, turning his face into the pillow, and lets out a long, slow breath.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Steve mutters into the pillow, and he shivers again, just that single full body shudder that stops almost before it starts. He turns his face out of the pillow, looking at Tony now, so that Bruce can only see the back of his head. “But that was good,” he says shyly. “The… the surprise made it almost better.” He sounds embarrassed to admit it.

Tony’s gaze is hungry on Steve, but he says, “You can go back to your room, now, if that’s what you want to do.” His voice isn’t as absolutely bland as Coulson’s had been, but it’s still a pretty good neutral voice, as compared to the look on his face, at least. He glances past Steve and fixes his gaze on Bruce for a long moment. “You’ll have to do without Bruce’s company this time, though.”

Bruce’s belly twists in response to the look on Tony’s face, and his cock is almost aching with want at this point.

“Bruce said,” Steve says, slowly, and a little uncertainly, “that you were going to make the lines on his thighs into X’s. If he still wants me to help you do that to him, then I still want to.”

“I have more immediate plans for Bruce right now,” Tony says, his voice low and taut. “I might still come back to his thighs later, but for right now, I have every intention of rewarding him for convincing you to submit to a spanking.” Tony cocks his head and looks from Bruce to Steve and back again. “If you want to help with that, you’d be welcome.”

Bruce isn’t sure whether to be ecstatic or terrified at being ‘rewarded’ by Tony, but the grinding desire between his hipbones tightens and makes his whole body clench in anticipation.

“If Bruce wants me to,” Steve says, voice still a little uncertain.

“I’m pretty comfortable deciding that on his behalf,” Tony says, and Bruce shivers a little in fearful lust along with a faint sense of relaxation somewhere in the tangle of want signals criss-crossing his mind. Tony has obviously taken Bruce’s desire not to have to make those kinds of decisions for himself to heart, and that is nothing but a relief, a thing he doesn’t have to think about in the heat and pulse of his own deep press of want. Bruce plants a soft kiss on Steve’s bare shoulder, just to reassure him, and Steve lets out a noise that is a little like a sigh and a little like a sound of pleasure.

Tony gives Bruce a long, measuring look across the expanse of Steve’s naked back, his gaze dark and glittering, but his lips curled up into a faint smile. “How much did you like having Steve bent over your knee, Bruce?” Tony asks in a low, amused voice that has edges sharpening that amusement. “How much did that get you off, getting from him what neither Coulson or I have ever had from him?”

There is no good way to answer that questions. Bruce sees the trap in it, but sees no way to avoid it. He doesn’t really hesitate, though, even seeing it for what it is. Tony will be able to tell if he tries to downplay it, and Bruce hadn’t done anything wrong. “It was good,” Bruce says. “Steve was sweet and responsive, and everything any top might have wanted from a sub taking his first spanking.”

“You’d say you topped him then?” Tony asks, still with that sharp and prickling amusement in his voice, but also with a hint of lust and genuine curiosity lacing the question. “Not just two subs playing around?”

Bruce thinks about it for a long moment, thinking of his actions and Steve’s reactions, and then nods in admission. “Not just playing,” he says. “He was wanting, he was ready to be topped like that, and I would be happy to play with Steve doing any number of things, but he needed to be topped for this, so I stepped in. It wasn’t hard to do. You and Coulson already have him primed to dip down into the right headspace given the slightest word or look from either of you. I just had to show him that it was okay to be scared, and to want it anyway. He needed to be sure he was allowed to want it anyway, and I couldn’t have given him that without actually topping him.”

“Did it feel like playing to you, Steve?” Tony asks.

Steve shivers a little, but answers right away. “No. It didn’t feel anything like playing. If it felt like anything specific, it felt like a lesson.”

Tony’s brows arch slightly. “And what did you learn?” he asks.

“That there is more than what I’ve let you do, that there is something deeper than that,” Steve says. “And that if I’m willing to let go of being afraid, that deeper thing can be really good for me.” Steve’s voice is unsteady, but almost throbbing with sincerity. “And that deeper thing is something you want, too, something that Coulson wants, and I needed someone to tell me it was there, and show me that I could let someone take me there, and… and I was envious of Bruce, after you were done with him, seeing him like he gets, so it seemed to make sense to ask Bruce what to do about it.”

Tony nods, expression gone a little solemn, and he brushes his fingers through Steve’s hair where it’s falling across his forehead. “I can see how it might feel safer to ask Bruce about that than it would to ask me or Coulson,” Tony says seriously. “Though I want you to know you _can_ ask me about anything, and I won’t assume that it gives me the right to do anything more to you or with you than we’ve already established is good for you.”

“I was afraid,” Steve says thickly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. You can always ask whomever you’re most comfortable asking about anything we do. I just want you to be sure, from this point on, that you can ask me things. I won’t presume to have the right to do anything you ask me about without your permission.” Tony touches Steve’s cheek lightly for just a moment, and then stands up. “However you got to it, though, Steve, you were brave tonight. And that means that I probably ought to be rewarding both you and Bruce.” Tony looks from Steve to Bruce and then back again, his expression considering. “I think simple is better, for this. Both of you get up on your knees.”

Bruce takes a moment to kiss Steve’s shoulder again, and then levers himself up onto his knees, aware of the hard, heavy length of his cock jutting out from between his thighs, aware of Tony looking at his cock, and flushing helplessly under the scrutiny even though he is sure Tony knows that anyone would have reacted to spanking Steve that way, that Bruce couldn’t have stopped it if he’d tried.

Steve drags himself up onto his hands and knees, twisting little in a way that Bruce recognizes, in the way that lets you feel the burn of your tender skin, and Tony sees that, too, and smiles faintly at it. Steve doesn’t notice, though he’s flushing deeply, and rises off his hands to wait on his knees, another of those single tremors going through his body.

“Steve, put your back to the headboard,” Tony says and Steve turns and faces Bruce across the expanse of the bed, his back to the headboard. His eyes are wide and uncertain, but he’s breathing slowly and deliberately, like he’s forcing himself to do it, and he’s hard again already, his cock almost as dark with blood as Bruce’s. “Bruce, do you want to suck him?”

Bruce wants to come, but if he can’t have that, then he can’t see how it could be bad for him to suck Steve’s very pretty cock. “Yes, Tony,” he says, and Tony reaches down and takes Bruce’s cock in his fist, startling Bruce into jerking slightly, and then dragging a harsh groan from between his lips.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” Tony asks, and Bruce’s cock jerks in Tony’s hand hard enough that Tony laughs a little, and squeezes gently.

“Yes, Tony,” Bruce says a little breathlessly.

“Think you can manage both at once?” Tony asks, and Bruce shudders, his cock jumping and aching in the curl of Tony’s fist.

“Yes, Tony,” he breathes, and thinks about being dragged between them, between their bodies and their cocks, taking it in both ends, and he’s only done it a handful of times, but those times had been good, and they hadn’t been with anyone he cares about pleasing as much as he cares about pleasing Tony, and even Steve, and he’s sure this will be better.

“I’d like to spank you,” Tony says, hand still tight around Bruce’s cock so that Bruce can feel his pulse beating through his groin. “But I don’t want to do it and then have you too sore for the caning tomorrow. I’d like to say I could just warm you up, Bruce, but…” His hand tightens around Bruce’s cock, and Bruce moans in mingled pleasure and pain. “But I’m just not sure I’d have the self control not to really give it to you if you respond to it as beautifully as you respond to everything else.” Tony strokes Bruce’s cock, and Bruce feels slickness slide along the head of his cock from the slit, and Tony slides his thumb through it and smears it around the head of Bruce’s cock. Bruce shudders and whines just a little, he can’t quite help it, because he wants Tony’s touch so much, and he’d be willing to risk the spanking, he is sure Tony is good at it, that it would be amazingly, breakingly painful and good. He bites his bottom lip to keep from saying anything about it all, he doesn’t want to encourage Tony when Tony has explicitly stated his reasons for not spanking Bruce, he doesn’t want to push that way, no matter how good it would be. Tony strokes his free hand down Bruce’s back to cup one cheek of his ass, touch light, a caress, and Bruce shivers helplessly under Tony’s hands, and he can’t even remember what it had been like not to have Tony’s hands on him. All of that is pushed back in his head, dull and gray compared to the last few days of having Tony touch him and hurt him.

“So,” Tony finally breathes, and squeezes Bruce’s ass lightly for a moment, before giving him a gentle swat and letting go of his cock. “Just move up to where you need to be to suck Steve. You can start whenever you’re ready.” He gives a gentle push in Steve’s direction, and Bruce knee walks across the surface of the bed, stopping in front of Steve, looking at Steve’s cock, and then dropping forward so that he’s balanced on his hands and knees in front of Steve, maybe six inches away from Steve’s cock. He can hear Tony shedding his clothing, but he ignores it as well as he can, and lifts himself up enough to get the head of Steve’s cock into his mouth, to tug it downward enough that he can get his mouth around the whole length of it, and Steve makes a short, harsh sound of want that is enough to make Bruce’s mouth water. Steve tastes a little like his own come already, as there had been no real clean up from the last time he’d come and this, and Bruce lets himself have the pleasure of taking him in slowly, relishing the heat and weight of the cock in his mouth, letting himself feel the smoothness of the skin and the hardness of the shaft. Steve grates out a harsh breath that comes out almost as slowly as Bruce is taking him into his mouth, something that would be a groan if there were less air in it, or more force to it, something that makes Bruce’s head swim a little with desire. He goes all the way down, taking Steve into his throat with barely a pause to slide past his gag reflex, and this time Steve does groan, his cock jerking in Bruce’s throat, and Bruce responds by pulling back just a little, just enough that Steve doesn’t quite pull out of his throat, and then sliding back down, feeling the slow ache start to build pleasantly in his jaw, his throat already protesting the intrusion, but not enough to stop Bruce from taking Steve all the way.

“You can use your hands, Steve,” Tony says from somewhere behind Bruce, and Steve’s hands plunge so immediately into Bruce’s hair that they must have been poised above his head, and Steve shudders and clenches his hands into fists in Bruce’s hair, and then holds Bruce still and pulls back himself, almost all the way out, and Bruce does his best to suck and use his tongue, but he’s slipping away from himself from nothing but this, nothing but having Steve take control of the blow job, and he’s a little surprised, but is also grateful for it, and moans around Steve’s cock when he thrusts it back into Bruce’s mouth, not pushing it as far as Bruce had taken him, but far enough that Bruce’s mouth feels well and truly used, which just makes his mouth water more in response, makes his cock jump between his thighs and sends a jolting arc of pleasure down his spine to crackle at the root of his belly. Steve isn’t timid at all about fucking Bruce’s mouth, though he still doesn’t press in enough to choke Bruce, but it’s clear that Steve has had someone do this for him before, and Bruce wonders if it had been Tony, if Tony had let Steve wind his hands into his hair and fuck his mouth. The idea makes Bruce clench all over with desperation, just the idea that he might get to do that to Tony, just the chance of it enough to make him moan again. 

Then Tony is crawling up behind him on the bed, and pressing a slick finger into him almost at the same time, and Bruce tightens and shudders for an instant, and then relaxes and Tony is not gentle when he shoves the finger into him, not that he has to be, Bruce can take a single finger without much in the way of warning, but it does burn just a little, and Tony goes unerringly for his prostate. Bruce chokes out a sound of surprised pleasure and Tony makes a low sound from behind him, a kind of throaty growl of satisfaction that makes Bruce’s skin prickle with goosebumps all over. Tony hardly hesitates before adding a second finger, wet with lube, still only the faintest of burns, and again strokes across Bruce’s prostate immediately, so that sweat prickles at Bruce’s skin, across his neck and under his arms and the small of his back, rough pleasure, achingly pure without any pain to distract from it. Bruce is moaning ceaselessly around Steve’s cock now, and rocking back just a little into Tony’s hands, so that Steve’s hands in his hair pull brightly and hotly, and his balls feel tight and hard and already so close to coming, and Tony isn’t even inside him yet.

Tony doesn’t stop his assault on Bruce’s prostate; he isn’t really even stretching Bruce, is just jabbing at his prostate again and again, and Bruce is feeling dizzy at the rush of pure pleasure so intense it almost is a kind of pain in itself, and Bruce wants Tony’s cock, he wants the roughness the stretch of Tony shoving into him, wants the force of Tony fucking him, and all he can do is whine around the shaft of Steve’s cock and hope that Tony will interpret it correctly, if Tony even wants to, if Tony isn’t just doing this to torture Bruce with the intensity of each press of fingertips against his prostate, because Tony would know, he would understand that it would be a kind of torture for Bruce, and without even meaning to do it, Bruce starts to cry, choked little sobs escaping from around Steve’s cock and Steve actually slows down and pulls back, as if he’d stop, but Steve’s cock using Bruce’s mouth is the only thing that is keeping him from begging right now, and Bruce will beg if that’s what Tony wants, he will, but he isn’t sure he wants to do it in front of Steve like this, so that Steve understands what Bruce is begging for really, so he leans forward into Steve’s hands and chases his cock. Steve says, “Tony?” uncertainly, but his hips are still rocking a little, like he can’t help it, and his hands are still tight in Bruce’s hair, pulling enough to be good, enough to hurt and be good.

“He’s alright,” Tony says, soothing tone directed at Steve, rather than Bruce. “He’s just a little impatient. He wants my cock, he wants me to fuck his ass at least as hard as you’re fucking his mouth, he just isn’t sure how to handle it when it’s almost purely pleasure.” Tony’s fingers continue to jab against Bruce’s prostate, and Bruce continues to cry a little, humiliation zinging through him at having Tony tell Steve, but that is good, too, that pushes him back further out of his mind, and he manages to dial the sobbing back to short little cries, willing to take this if it’s what Tony wants, willing his body and his mind to accept it if it’s all that Tony wants to give him, and he still wants more, he _does_ want Tony to fuck his ass at least as hard as Steve is fucking his mouth, but he will take what Tony gives him and be grateful for it, because just Tony touching him is enough, he might want more, but the deep down truth is that Tony’s touch is enough. “I don’t want you to come until I tell you, Steve,” Tony says, and shifts behind Bruce. “I want him strung between us for as long as I can make it happen.”

Steve groans a little, but he manages to stammer out “He… he’s too good at it, I’m not sure I…”

“You can,” Tony says, his tone brooking no argument. “You will.”

And then Tony is thrusting into Bruce without having really stretched him at all, lots of lube, but not really any stretching, and Bruce lets out a choked off scream at the sudden burn, but shoves back to meet the stroke helplessly, desperately, and Tony says, “God, you’re tight, Bruce,” and sends sharp little splinters of need skating up Bruce’s spine. Tony doesn’t pause after the first stroke, pulls back and then shoves his cock in again, so that Bruce has to lift his hands and grasp at Steve’s thighs to keep his balance between them, and it still shoves Steve’s cock all the way down Bruce’s throat, which is fine with Bruce, Bruce is more than willing, but Steve snarls out a harsh, effortful sound and drags his cock back almost all the way out of Bruce’s mouth, panting and only his fists still clenched in Bruce’s hair keep Bruce from chasing after it, even with Tony pulling out again and slamming back in, his thrusts punishingly hard, but still scraping along Bruce’s prostate, so that Bruce’s body is shuddering between the pain and pleasure.

Tony says, “Don’t stop, Steve,” a command, and Steve groans a little, but pushes back between Bruce’s lips deep enough to bump against the back of Bruce’s throat, so that he chokes a little, which only makes Steve groan more harshly, as though he both loves and hates the way it feels to fuck that deeply into Bruce’s mouth. Bruce sucks hard at Steve as he draws back, and Tony shoves into him again, and Bruce lets the momentum of the thrust push him back onto Steve’s cock, and groans desperately at the feel of them, of both of them at once, and he was right, it’s better than it had been the few times he’s done it before, but not just because it’s Tony and Steve, but also because Tony is just better at it, he knows how to keep it harsh and deep and he knows how to make Steve keep fucking into Bruce’s mouth even though Steve’s thighs under Bruce’s hands are hard and trembling with effort and need, and it’s just better, the whole thing is better, and Bruce is rocked between them in a rhythm that Tony is almost solely driving, but which Steve is not fighting him on, though Steve is making short, sharp sounds of pleasure every time his cock presses into Bruce’s mouth, but Tony doesn’t stop, he gives Bruce no space in which to settle, so that Bruce is just open to them both, just open and willing, body jerking and cock aching to be so thoroughly used. “Let him take you all the way, Steve,” Tony commands, and Steve lets out a short, helpless sound, but he presses forward all the way, cutting off Bruce’s air and filling his throat, and when he pulls back it’s just a few inches, not enough to leave Bruce’s throat, before he is shoving in again, finger’s knotted in Bruce’s hair, letting out a low, long sound that is almost agonized that Bruce can barely hear over the rush of blood in his ears and the sound of Tony’s voice, growling obscenities as he pounds into Bruce’s ass. 

Bruce isn’t sure how long it goes on. It can’t be long after Tony tells Steve to let Bruce take it all, because Bruce is a little woozy with lack of air, but isn’t yet dizzy with it, when Tony says, “Bruce, don’t come, you’re not allowed to come,” and Bruce feels tears spill onto his cheeks, and then Tony says, “Steve, you can come as soon as I do,” and then it is just Tony plunging his cock into Bruce’s ass, rough and fast and perfect, until he stiffens, groaning out Bruce’s name, which makes Bruce’s nuts clench and twist in desperation, to hear Tony say his name while he’s coming, and then he hears Steve begging,

“Now, Tony, please, now,” and Tony saying nothing but maybe nodding, or maybe it is just obvious enough that Steve can’t doubt it, and then Steve is shoving into Bruce’s throat until Bruce’s nose is pressed up against his hard belly, and he is dragging at Bruce’s hair like he could possibly pull him any closer, and then his cock is jerking in Bruce’s throat, hard and fast. Bruce would be groaning with pleasure if he could make a sound around Steve’s cock, his vision is going a little gray, but Steve doesn’t hold him as long as Tony would have, pulls back almost as soon as his cock stops jerking, dragging the taste of his come across Bruce’s tongue, and Bruce moans piteously, his whole body twisted up with need. He whimpers when Steve pulls all the way out of his mouth, his jaw aching, and his throat raw, and sobs a little when he feels Tony pulling out of him. Tony jerks him up and over, Bruce falling inelegantly onto his back, and Tony drags his sharp and hungry gaze from Bruce’s cock all the way up to Bruce’s face. 

“Good boy, Bruce,” Tony tells him huskily, and Bruce hitches in a breath and tries to keep another sob from spilling out of his mouth without much in the way of success. “You can come as soon as you can,” he says, and dips down and takes Bruce’s cock into his mouth in one swift, shocking movement, his lips tight around the shaft, his mouth wet and hot, his tongue shockingly soft as he drags it along the shaft of Bruce’s cock, and Bruce fists his hands in the sheets and forces his hips not to rise up and take what isn’t his to take, just lies there, sobbing and trembling at the feel of Tony’s mouth on his cock for as long as he can stand it, which isn’t long, he’s too needful, no matter how much he’d like to stretch out the feel of Tony sucking him, and he screams when he comes, loud and desperate and grateful, and Tony swallows everything and doesn’t stop sucking until Bruce’s cock has gone small and soft in his mouth. Then he draws back and braces his hands on either side of Bruce’s shoulders and kisses him, not hard and hot and hungry, but sweet and soft, gentle as spring rain against flower petals, and Bruce sobs into his mouth a few times, helpless to stop it, until the sweetness of it, the simple tenderness, eases him back from tears and he just kisses Tony back, soft and simple and soothing.

Eventually, Tony pulls back, looking at Bruce with eyes like coffee, kindness spilling out of them, and murmurs, “Good boy, Bruce.”

Bruce manages a smile that feels as helpless as the tears had been, and says hoarsely, “Thank you, Tony.”

“You’re welcome,” Tony says. Then he leans up and draws Steve to him, still on his knees, and kisses Steve in almost the same way, just the subtle shift and press of lips and tongues. “Good boy, Steve,” Tony says when he pulls back and Steve shudders, his eyes slipping closed like it’s something he’s always wanted to hear without ever knowing he needed it.

“Thank you, Tony,” he whispers shakily, and Tony cups his cheek and swipes away a tear from beneath his eye. 

“It’s alright,” Tony says. “It’s going to be alright.” Another tear escapes Steve’s closed eye, but he nods and presses his cheek into Tony’s palm. Tony turns toward Steve and wraps his arms around his shoulders. Steve shudders and wraps his arms around Tony’s waist, leaning into him. Bruce, more on instinct than with any kind of deliberation, levers himself upright and presses himself against their sides, one arm around each of them. They both pull back and little and shift to pull him in, their arms going around him, too. Bruce kisses Steve on the cheek. Steve flushes and his eyes flick to Tony, but he returns the kiss.

“Thank you, Bruce,” he says, still a little shaky, but firmer than before.

“Oh, no,” Bruce says, smiling a little with lips that still feel swollen and well used. “Thank _you_.” Steve’s blush goes brighter, but he smiles a little, and seems reassured, which had been what Bruce had been going for.

“Why don’t I get us fresh drinks,” Tony says. “Yours will be warm or watered down by now. Then if we need to talk, we can.” He looks at Bruce. “Whisky sour?” he asks.

“Yes, thank you,” Bruce says.

“Beer, still,” Steve says. 

Tony nods and pulls away from them. He doesn’t bother to put any clothes on when he leaves the bedroom. Bruce wonders who might be out there to appreciate the scenery, but in an amused kind of way.

Steve and Bruce settle down onto the bed, Bruce on his knees because his ass is a little sore, and Steve on his knees because his ass is probably still a little sore for entirely different reasons.

They avoid each other’s eyes for a few seconds, and then Bruce laughs a little, and Steve looks at him, sees how he’s sitting, and laughs a little, too.

“Aren’t we a pair,” Steve says, but his voice seems mostly normal now, whereas Bruce is still firmly in submissive headspace.

“How long do you think it’ll be before you don’t feel it anymore?” Bruce asks with genuine curiosity. It wouldn’t take him more than a few hours to shake off a spanking that light, along with Coulson’s little addition, and be ready for more. 

“Couple of hours, probably,” Steve says with a little shrug. “I don’t exactly have anything to compare it to, but I’m not really hurt. The closest I can come is getting road rash from wrecking my bike, and that healed up overnight.”

“I’m almost as interested in seeing how fast you heal from the caning as Tony is,” Bruce admits. “If you have any affinity at all for pain, think of the advantages it gives your dominant.” Steve blushes hotly, and Bruce laughs.

“Hey,” Steve says after a minute or so of comfortable silence. 

Bruce arches his brows in question.

“Can you teach someone to do that? Take it all in their throat I mean?” He blushes as he asks it, but he’s clearly quite serious. “I can’t do it, and I’d really like to be able to. I think. I think it would be good.”

“It is good,” Bruce agrees. “There’s a knack to it. I can walk you through it if we can get someone to let you practice on. I’m a little too long to actually be a fair test of your ability to do it.”

Steve laughs a little. “Yeah, I don’t think we’ll have a problem getting volunteers.” He blushes still, the whole time, but it’s part of his charm, really, that he can’t even talk about things without blushing like a bride. Bruce grins at him, nodding.

“I keep thinking you’re going to stop blushing at things at some point,” Bruce says. “But I think if you were, you would have by now.”

“I can’t help it,” Steve groans, and puts his hands over his face. “I wish it had an off button.”

“It’s actually pretty charming,” Bruce says.

“What’s charming?” Tony asks, walking in with a pair of glasses balanced on their bases on one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. He hands the beer to Steve, and then passes one of the glasses to Bruce.

Bruce drinks deeply, grateful for the way it soothes his still raw throat even as he enjoys the warmth of the alcohol hitting his stomach. “Steve blushing,” he says, when it becomes clear that Steve isn’t going to do it.

“It’s awful,” Steve says, and tips his beer up in a long swallow.

“No, Bruce is right. It’s charming,” Tony says, and climbs up to sit tailor fashion on the bed with them. He turns to Bruce, a brow cocked. “Which reminds me of something I wanted to ask you. When we talked, you said that orgasm control was okay, but you have been pretty desperate every time we’ve come to the point where I could have exerted that control. Desperate enough that I didn’t want to deny you and fuck it up somehow. So how does it work for you, so I’m not making any mistakes.”

“Oh,” Bruce says, and now he’s blushing. “I guess I should have said maybe that orgasm control or denial works for me if I know that’s what is going to happen when I’m going into it. If you worked me up to what we did just now and didn’t let me come, I would, eventually, have calmed down and still have been relatively okay, but it would have hurt my subspace. If I go in expecting it, it helps my subspace.”

Tony looks thoughtful. “But you wouldn’t have asked for it, if I had just told you not to come and left you, after?” he asks.

“Not if you told me you weren’t going to let me come,” Bruce says. “As long as you don’t say you don’t plan on letting me come, I probably would ask for it if we got to a point like that, but if you just told me not to come, I wouldn’t ask. I’d be hard up and it would tangle my headspace, but I could do it, and you could settle me again pretty easily, I would guess, just from what I know you can do so far.”

“Good to know,” Tony says, and takes a drink of what looks like a gin and tonic.

“Steve wants to learn to deep throat,” Bruce says. “I told him I could give him a few pointers if we could get a volunteer. There’s still no guarantee he’ll be able to take the advice and run with it, or it might take him a little practice, but he’s eager, and that’s the main necessary ingredient.”

Steve flushes brightly, and Tony smiles at him. “I’m sure we can find you a volunteer,” he says a little smugly. “Maybe we can practice on each other.” Steve’s face positively blazes, and his eyes go wide, mouth even falling a little open. Tony smirks at his surprise, and just says. “I’m assuming you don’t want to do it tonight?”

“No, not tonight, really,” Steve eventually manages to say with a reasonable amount of dignity. “Just whenever we have the time and aren’t doing anything else pressing.”

“If he were anyone else, I’d say to get him a little high, but since it’s him, I think the best way to do it is to find out if he’s got any affinity for pain, and then give it a try when he’s deep in subspace,” Bruce says. “Although I may be playing it too safe. Like I said, eagerness is really the biggest factor in figuring it out, and I’m not sure he’d be more eager in subspace or not.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had him deeply enough in subspace to make a guess as to whether it would make it more expedient,” Tony says. “But in my experience, he doesn’t have to be that deep into it to follow good directions.” Tony shrugs. “What he can get to on his own with just a little guidance is usually enough to let him follow orders.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Bruce says, fairly confident that he can manage to talk Steve into being able to do it. He still thinks smoking a bowl is probably the best way to teach Tony. He downs another cool swallow of his drink, feeling it warm him on the way down, and wonders whether Tony would be able to top after smoking a bowl. It would be interesting to find out. Bruce’s only experience with it had been his roommate in college, and he had been mostly fine.

“Are you hungry, Steve,” Tony asks, and Steve hesitates, looking momentarily uncertain.

Finally he says, “I will need to eat again before I sleep, but I don’t need to eat right now if you want me here to do something else.”

Bruce is still deeply enough in subspace that it takes him a minute to translate that into: if there are still sex plans, I want to be involved and will eat later. Then he smiles a little, and sees that Tony is already smirking.

“Are you tired, Bruce?” Tony asks.

Bruce blinks and considers it seriously. “I slept most of the afternoon, so I’m not especially tired, but honestly, any time I’m in subspace, I can usually fall asleep if I lie down and try.”

Tony eyes him thoughtfully for several seconds, and then says, “I can’t get enough of you,” in a voice that is almost fatalistic. “If I try to wait until I feel like I’ve got all I want from you, neither of us will ever sleep. Why don’t we go to bed, and if I still feel like making X’s on your thighs tomorrow, we’ll do that first thing.”

“Can I be tied down to sleep?” Bruce asks, and is a little surprised at how easy it is to ask for it.

“Yes,” Tony says, gaze going a little sharp. “Like that, do you?”

“I only have the one time as an example, but it was good. I’d like to try again and see if it’s good again,” Bruce says.

“Definitely an experiment worth exploring,” Tony says, with a half smile, though his eyes are still a little dark. “Steve, the bed is big enough for all three of us, if you want.” Tony leaves it totally open ended, and Bruce sees a momentary flicker of surprise on Steve’s face at the offer. Bruce wonders about it, but is mellow enough not to ask.

“Sure,” Steve says. “I’ll just go make myself a couple of sandwiches, and I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he says.

“Wait a minute and I’ll keep you company,” Tony says, and deftly steals the mostly empty glass out of Bruce’s hand and sets it on a bedside table. He drags Bruce upward across the bed -- Steve slides easily to one side when he sees what Tony is doing -- and a moment later, Bruce’s hands are cuffed to the headboard almost faster than Bruce is in any state to process. Perhaps predictably, his cock starts to fill a little, even though coming again any time soon is not that probable. Tony slides a pillow under Bruce’s head, and then scoots down to the foot of the bed to cuff Bruce’s ankles. Then he stretches up over Bruce’s body and kisses him lightly on the mouth. “Where are you sitting?” he asks.

“2.5, Tony,” Bruce says. “Maybe a little lower with the bondage.” 

“Good. Stay right where you are. Don’t worry about staying awake if you feel like sleeping. Steve and I are going to go get him fed. I don’t want to leave him alone right now.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Bruce says. “But I’d like another kiss. In case I do fall asleep before you come back to bed.”

Tony chuckles, and kisses Bruce with exquisite roughness, teeth and tongue and the hot pull of his sucking lips. Bruce’s cock fills a little more, but he still feels okay about it when Tony pulls back. “Good enough?”

“Yes, Tony. Thank you,” Bruce says. Tony kisses him on the forehead.

“We’ll be right back.”

Bruce relaxes down into the bondage and his subspace, his groin a faint throb of want, his ass tender, his lips a little bruised, and doesn’t worry at all about being left alone. He thinks Tony staying with Steve right now is a good idea. Steve seems mostly okay, but just the fact that Steve hadn’t objected to Tony going with him for company is probably a pretty strong indicator that Steve doesn’t feel entirely okay. Bruce understands it. He had been that new once, and his dominant hadn’t left him alone for any of it. And while Steve isn’t really new precisely, what he had done with Bruce had been new, the possibilities in Steve’s head are suddenly new and not necessarily comforting, and Tony has good instincts.

He drifts for what is probably only a few minutes, but which feels longer and more luxuriant in his mind, and then Tony and Steve are back in the room, and Bruce smiles at them. Tony smiles back. Steve looks a little worried.

“I can sleep in my room if you’d rather,” Steve says, and it takes Bruce several long moments to realize that Steve is talking to him.

“Why would I rather?” Bruce asks, puzzled, and then realizes that Steve thinks he might want Tony all to himself. He smiles. “I never have sex with anyone I’m not perfectly comfortable sharing a bed with, Steve,” he says. Steve looks like he’s not entirely convinced. “Besides,” Bruce adds, “it will be nice to have someone on either side of me.”

Steve seems to consider that seriously for a moment, and then he smiles a little. “I can see how that would be nice,” he says, and looks at Tony. Tony tosses him a pillow. 

“There is honestly plenty of room even if you don’t want to cuddle right up to Bruce, but if you do, he doesn’t seem to have a problem with putting the pillow on top of his arm.”

Steve puts the pillow down on top of Bruce’s arm without hesitation, and Bruce beams at him, glad, and Steve smiles back, apparently just as glad. Tony drops a pillow onto Bruce’s other arm, and grabs the comforter and shakes it out so that it covers the whole bed, instead of being bunched up on one side. Steve hesitates, and then climbs into the bed, under the comforter, and slides a hand up Bruce’s chest, which is still just sore enough to make Bruce shiver a little with appreciation. He feels Steve relax, tucked up against the side of his body. Tony climbs in and immediately throws a leg over one of Bruce’s thighs, and almost absently flicks one of Bruce’s nipples, which are still sore enough to make him gasp. Tony chuckles.

“Light’s out, Jarvis,” Tony says, and the room goes dark, except for the square of light coming from Steve’s little room. “Shit,” Tony says. “I keep meaning to put that one on a voice command system, too.” He flings the comforter off of him and gets up and turns that light off by hand. When he slides back into the bed beside Bruce, he repositions his thigh, and stretches out his hand on Bruce’s chest. Steve’s hand twitches against Bruce’s chest, and the slides a little to one side, to rest half on top of Tony’s hand.

“Everybody good?” Tony asks.

“Yes,” Bruce says. 

“Yeah. Let me know if I get too heavy on your arm Bruce,” Steve says.

“I will,” Bruce says, though in point of fact, he probably won’t know until he wakes up in the morning and his hand is asleep, unless he has a muscle cramp. Tony’s cuffs, though, are loose enough to let him move his arms a little if he starts to get stiff or feels like his circulation is being cut off, and he’s not worried. He’s warm and comfortable and can feel Tony and Steve both breathing against his neck, and Bruce falls asleep that way without noting that he’s even drifting off.


	3. Advanced Physicality - Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a long-ass chapter, beware!

Bruce wakes up according to his internal alarm clock, notes that Tony and Steve are still pressed up against either side of him, and that neither of them are awake. His hands feel fine and it’s still dark in the room with Tony’s industrial-grade light blocking curtains, so he closes his eyes and goes back to sleep.

When he wakes up the second time, it’s because Steve has jerked abruptly on his right side, and is breathing heavily in the silence. He rolls over onto his back, though he doesn’t remove his head from the pillow on Bruce’s arm, and takes several long deep breaths that sound shaky to Bruce.

“Steve?” he whispers.

Steve rolls back over into Bruce’s side at once, stroking a soothing hand down Bruce’s chest. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “Just a bad dream.”

His voice is unsteady though, and Bruce doesn’t like it. “Do you want to tell me about it?” he whispers.

Steve shudders. “No,” he says immediately. Then he strokes a hand across Bruce’s belly softly, as though in apology. “Talking about them just makes me dwell on them,” he whispers almost soundlessly. “Go back to sleep.”

“Are you going back to sleep?” Bruce asks, at the same almost inaudible whisper, because he doesn’t think Steve lying awake and thinking about it will be any less dwelling than talking about it would.

“No, I’ll go to my room and draw for a while. I might come back later, if I get tired again, and you’re still asleep,” Steve murmurs. He kisses Bruce’s chest, right above his nipple. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

Bruce wants to object, but can’t think of a good way to have a conversation about whether or not Steve is fine in whispers, with Tony’s weight heavy along his left side, and not entirely sure he has the right to press Steve if he doesn’t want to talk about it, as well. “Kiss me before you go,” is all he says, and Steve huffs out a little laugh that is almost all air.

“I have disgusting morning breath,” Steve whispers.

“So do I,” Bruce replies. “Kiss me anyway.”

Steve raises himself up on his elbow and leans over Bruce, kissing his cheek, then the corner of his mouth, and then his lips, though he doesn’t do more than press a soft and deliberately closed-mouthed kiss against Bruce’s lips. Bruce takes it because he senses that’s all he’s going to get, and then Steve rolls away from him and off the side of the bed. A moment later, Bruce hears the door to Steve’s little room click almost silently closed, and a moment after that, a thin line of light appears from under the door.

Bruce bites at his bottom lip, wondering if he should wake Tony, but before he can decide, Tony murmurs, “He dreams badly often enough that he won’t sleep in bed with me that often. I can’t get him to talk about it either. Coulson and I have both tried to get him to. He tells Natasha a little, I think. Maybe she’s more soothing than Coulson or I am.” Tony brushes a hand down the front of Bruce’s body. “I think that if we could get him into some really good subspace and ask him then, he might be more willing to talk to us, but until your little adventure last night, neither Coulson nor I had figured out how to get him into subspace deep enough to try it.”

“Don’t do that,” Bruce whispers. “Don’t, I mean, you’re probably right, he probably would, but it would be because he couldn’t help it, not because he really wants to. You can’t use his subspace for some kind of therapy. It could really mess with his head.”

Tony doesn’t say anything for several long seconds, and then sighs. “You’re probably right. He might avoid subspace entirely if he came back up from it aware that he’d said things to us that he wouldn’t have normally said.” Tony hugs him, one armed. “You’re definitely right. We both know better really. We’re just worried. Coulson sees it more often than I do, really, because he actually sleeps in bed with Coulson. It’s not every night, but it’s pretty frequent.”

“Has anyone suggested that he see someone. I don’t think it’s a stretch to say he’s probably got one of the most virulent cases of PTSD possible.” Bruce chews on his bottom lip. “Should I suggest it?”

“Coulson and I haven’t suggested it. I know SHIELD had him in with a psychologist for a little while after they got him out of the ice, but I don’t think it went well for him. And, all things being equal, it doesn’t surprise me. What he really needs is a specialist, and there never seems to be a good time to bring it up.”

Bruce chews on his bottom lip a little more. “I’ll think about it. Maybe I can think of some way to phrase it that he might be willing to at least think about.”

“Honestly, I think if any of us can figure out how to talk him into it, it’s you. You have a better bedside manner than all the rest of us put together,” Tony says with a soft chuckle.

Bruce isn’t sure if he’s pleased that Tony thinks so, or a little annoyed. He is willing to stipulate that he cultivates a mostly even-keeled personality, for obvious reasons, and that the rest of the Avengers all have their… quirks, but still. He isn’t sure it’s flattering to be known as the mild mannered one in the group. Then he thinks about the way that he’s been holding them all at arms length for months, and Tony still thinks that he has more chance of convincing Steve than anyone else in the group, and decides to feel pleased about it. He also thinks…

He pauses in the middle of that thought, considering it carefully from every angle before he lets anything spill out of his mouth. 

He remembers telling Steve that they loved him, remembers the almost gut-punched feel of realizing that it wasn’t only Steve that it applied to, and he remembers Steve telling him that none of them gave their love indiscriminately.

“Tony,” he says, and stops. The idea seems too big, the gesture seems too big, but it also seems just right. And it isn’t really that big. It’s like Steve’s needing to know about the pain, once the idea of it had latched onto his thoughts. It only seems big. In reality, it’s hardly anything. None of them will _do_ anything that he doesn’t explicitly invite. None of them would even think about it.

“I can feel you thinking really hard, Bruce,” Tony says softly, and reaches up to slide his fingers gently through Bruce’s hair. “Do you want to tell me?”

“I do. I think. No, I’m almost sure. That if the others want to watch today, that it’s okay with me.”

Tony’s breath stops for just a moment, so brief that only the fact that Bruce is desperately and deliberately attuned to Tony’s every need lets Bruce even hear it. Then Tony says, almost mildly, “Are you sure, Bruce?” But Tony has tensed a little, not in agitation, Bruce thinks, but rather in anticipation or excitement. Tony _wants_ to show Bruce off. More than that, Tony wants Bruce to be comfortable with everyone, wants him to be comfortable with _being_ shown off, and not just for Tony. At least as much for Bruce as for Tony. Maybe more.

“Steve and I talked a lot last night,” Bruce says. “About lots of things. One of them was that no one would make him do anything he didn’t want, even if he physically responded positively to the caning. That no one would even want to. That he could trust you and Coulson not to make demands on him without him explicitly stating that making some kinds of demands was okay with him. Some time during that, I’m not really sure when, I realized that if it was true for him, it’s just as true for me. I can’t just wait and expect each of them sometime just to start feeling steady for me. I have to be doing my part. I have to be letting them prove that they can be steady for me. And this is an almost easy thing to do, Tony. You’ll be there with me, and they’ve all already seen me after I’ve taken a beating. Am I… Does this make any sense at all outside my own head?” he finally asks.

“It makes a lot of sense,” Tony says, still running a soothing hand up and down Bruce’s chest. “I wouldn’t have pushed for it yet, and even when I was ready to start pushing for it, I would probably have chosen to to push for it just one at a time, but if you think you can do it like this, then I think you should.” Tony kisses his cheek. “I think you’re right that you have to give them opportunities to prove to you that they are steady. And I think that they would all practically sprain something in their rush to do almost anything to watch both you and Steve getting caned at the same time.”

Bruce had almost forgotten that Steve was going to be involved. “We should ask Steve,” he says quickly. “God, I can’t make that decision for both of us.”

“By all means, we should ask him, but Steve has already been seen and done to by everyone that I would allow to be present for a beating you were taking,” Tony says.

“You would allow?” Bruce echoes, confused. “I thought you said the whole team was okay.”

“On the weekends, other people besides the team are in the tower. I won’t let Jane or Darcy or Rhodey or even Pepper see you get taken apart like that. It would just be Thor, Natasha, and Clint, as far as non-participants go.”

Bruce blinks, not sure what to say. He hadn’t expected anyone but the team, but Tony is right. There are other people around the Tower on the weekends. “It could wait,” he says. “We could wait until only the team is around.”

“I’d rather not,” Tony says. “I don’t want to give Steve that much time to twist himself up into knots over it. I don’t have a problem with letting the rest of them know that we have a team building exercise that they aren’t welcome to join in on going on today. They may bitch a little, but it will only be a little, because they’re all fairly easy going people. I wouldn’t let them hang around if they were really high maintenance. Well, except for Rhodey, but I don’t expect him to be here today anyway, so he shouldn’t be a problem. And the setup is in here, so we won’t have to move either of you to another location after it’s done.” Tony is silent for several long moments, maybe giving Bruce time to object, but Bruce doesn’t really have an objection in him. Finally, Tony says, “I’ll let the rest of them know. We’ll have a light lunch and make sure you both drink lots of water about an hour before, and then we’ll kick all the non-Avengers out of the penthouse entirely for the duration. They can hang out on Clint’s floor. He has almost as much in the way of electronics as I do, so they won’t be bored.”

“Okay,” Bruce says. His voice is very calm, and he even feels pretty calm about the idea, but it still feels like a big idea in his head. He knows it’s all perspective, but he can’t help how it feels.

“It’s not too late to change your mind, Bruce,” Tony says, and Bruce is sure he’d given away his nerves in his body language or the tone of his voice, but he can’t regret it. The fact that Tony can pick up on those things is one of the reasons he makes such a good dominant.

“I’m not going to change my mind,” Bruce says. “I’m nervous, but I’m not scared.”

“Okay,” Tony says, and leans over to kiss his cheek. “That’s how we’ll handle it, then.” Tony sounds pleased. “You ready to be untied yet?” he asks, apparently with great sincerity.

“I suppose,” Bruce says, feeling faintly sulky about it, and not sure what it is he’s actually feeling sulky about.

Tony’s brows arch in amusement, but also in question.

“I don’t know. I have to pee soon, so I have to get up anyway, I just. I like the long stretches of bondage. I never really got to have that before. I never knew it was something I liked. And I half feel like I wasted it by sleeping through most of it.”

Tony lets out a low rumble of laughter. “I can tie you back down, Bruce. Granted, these sheets probably need to be changed first, and I’m not sure what you want me to do with you once I’ve got you down, but it’s totally doable. This is something you can have almost any time you want it.”

Bruce is undeniably tempted, but shakes his head a little impatiently. “No, now I’m just being bratty. Once I get up and go to the bathroom, I’ll want a shower and breakfast and other stuff. I just. I like this. I like it a lot.” He jerks at the cuffs around his wrists a couple of times, just to punctuate the remarks.

“I can tell. We’ll set up a day while I’m still on break, and we’ll keep you down all day. I’ll set up something to keep you bound even while you have breakfast or go to the bathroom, and I’ll make sure you get a full day of the full treatment. I’d do it today, but we have other commitments. And I’ll want a little time to plan all that I’m going to do to you on that day, since it necessitates my continuous presence,” Tony says.

“It doesn’t, though, really,” Bruce says. “Sure, I’d like you to be there the whole time, but if I’m in good headspace, I don’t particularly need you for every moment of it.”

“It’s not like it’s going to be a chore, Bruce,” Tony laughs, and leans up to rake his fingers through Bruce’s hair again, pushing it back from his brow. “I just want a little time to plan. Watching you wallow in your headspace for a whole day will be at least as good for me as it will be for you.” He leans down and kisses Bruce firmly. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” Bruce says, a little flushed and pleased that Tony will spend that kind of time on him, just for something that Bruce wants, just because he wants it, so it’s not as big a loss as he might have felt when Tony unlocks the cuffs around his wrists and then throws back the comforter to unlock his ankles as well. “Should we get Steve?” Bruce wonders, once he’s free and flexing a little. His cock isn’t sore at all anymore, and his chest is also almost completely healed up, just his nipples still a little tender.

Tony pauses in the act of sliding off the bed and looks at Bruce. “I usually leave him alone for a while after he gets up and leaves my bed, but if you think he might want to join us in the shower, there is plenty of room.”

“There’s room for most of a high school marching band in your shower, Tony,” Bruce says, and Tony grins.

“It’s good to be rich,” he says easily. “I’ll leave it up to you, if you want to ask Steve to join us. I think he might if you ask him, and might be a little less willing if it’s just me.” He slides the rest of the way off the bed. “I’ll go get the shower started.”

He disappears into the bathroom without another word, and Bruce is left sitting up in the middle of the bed and chewing at his lower lip, wondering whether Steve would rather be left alone, or if it would be good for him to get his mind of his dream by coming to play with Bruce and Tony in Tony’s enormous shower. If it had been him, he knows what he would have chosen, but despite Bruce’s problems, of which PTSD is probably at least one, Steve is arguably a little more harshly affected by his issues, or at least hasn’t had as much time to get used to dealing with them as Bruce has his own. Still. If he were Steve and he didn’t get an invitation, he’d feel left out. He might not say anything about it, but he would. And the worst Steve can do is say he doesn’t feel like it.

So Bruce slides off the bed and down to his knees and crosses to Steve’s door on his hands and knees and knocks lightly on it. He slides a little back, since the door opens outward and he doesn’t want to get hit by it, and after a few seconds, Steve opens it a few inches, peering at Bruce from about the same level that Bruce’s head is at, which means he’s sitting down. He looks just a little bit on the wary side as he looks at Bruce, which makes Bruce’s heart hurt a little, but he pushes it aside. “Do you want to come shower with me and Tony in Tony’s enormous shower? I anticipate some form of tomfoolery,” he adds brightly.

Steve’s relief is only briefly visible, and then he’s grinning at Bruce and opening the door a little further. “Tomfoolery, huh?” he asks, and Bruce just shrugs.

“I can make no promises, but even if there is no tomfoolery whatsoever, at least you’ll have someone to wash your hair and scrub your back for you.” Bruce pauses. “If you’re in the middle of something else, you aren’t required to attend Tony.”

“Attend Tony?” Steve asks, his brows pulling together in a dark line of puzzlement.

Bruce realizes Steve probably has no idea what it means to attend to a dominant in any of the traditional settings, and shrugs a little. “Some dominants like to be attended to at certain times. Bathing is one of those times. Tony hasn’t asked me to, yet, but I’m pretty sure we’ll get there. It hadn’t occurred to me that he wouldn’t have trained you in how to attend him when appropriate.”

Steve looks a little leery, but also kind of fascinated at the idea. “Attend him doing what?” Steve asks.

“Washing him, but it’s more than that. It’s a kind of way to make your dominant’s bathing experience as relaxing as it can be. You basically just scrub them all over and rub their necks and shoulders if they seem tense or especially tired, and wash their hair for them. You just act the part of a bath servant, more or less.”

“You do that?” Steve asks, looking thoughtful. 

“Sure,” Bruce says. “I haven’t with Tony yet, and I don’t really expect to today. Like I said, I expect tomfoolery. But yeah, I’ve done it. I like doing it. Sometimes it’s the only time you get to touch your dominant as much as you want for as long as you want. It can be good. I just assumed Tony would have had you attending him, if he had the chance. I mean, who wouldn’t? So I was just letting you know it wasn’t a requirement of attendance. Just an invitation.”

“Will you show me how to do that?” Steve asks, his brows still drawn together just a little bit, making his eyes look a little fierce. 

“If Tony agrees,” Bruce says, cocking his head a little. “Are you mad, Steve?”

“What?” Steve looks surprised. “No! Why would you think that?”

“Because you were frowning at me kind of intensely. If you’re involved in something else, you don’t have to come.”

“No, I’m not mad. I was just thinking. I was just wondering why neither Tony or Coulson has ever mentioned any kind of attendance.” Then his eyes widen a little. “You know, she didn’t call it that, but I’ve kind of done something like it for Natasha. She… she taught me how to wash her hair and had me wash her a few times. I didn’t know it had a name. I thought it was just something Natasha liked.”

“Sounds a lot like bath attendance to me,” Bruce says. “Maybe she didn’t think to label it, or maybe she thought you wouldn’t appreciate giving that kind of service if it was asked for as service. The people that have topped you have been careful of your inexperience.” Bruce shrugs. “I’m not sure why they didn’t ask,” he says. “We can go ask Tony if you want.”

Steve frowns again and licks his lips, and then opens the door wider, setting aside a large drawing pad that Bruce doesn’t get a close enough look at to identify what Steve had been working on. He already has smears of charcoal on his fingertips and a smudge across one temple, though, and Bruce thinks it’s kind of adorable. He stands up and takes a step past Bruce in the direction of the bathroom, and Bruce catches his hand and tugs at it. Steve looks at him without realizing anything for a couple of seconds, and then he says, “Oh,” and sinks down to his knees. “It’s going to take me a little time to remember that,” he says.

“Better get used to it sooner, rather than later. Tony’s exact words were that he’d react badly to me being on my feet behind the knee line, and I don’t expect he’ll react any better because it’s you. Maybe a little worse, honestly, just to give you some perspective.” Steve opens his mouth, and Bruce shakes his head. “Don’t ask me, I’ve never been in trouble for that. You and Tony need to negotiate your behavior on things like that between the two of you. It might not be the same thing he’d do to you that he’d do to me. It probably isn’t, honestly, if you think about it. You’re still so new.”

Steve hesitates, and then nods, looking thoughtful, almost like maybe he’s planning on ‘forgetting’ and seeing what happens to him, but Bruce isn’t going to encourage or discourage him either one on that. If Steve pisses Tony off on purpose, Bruce can’t do anything to help him with that. No, not can’t. Won’t. If Steve does it by accident, Bruce would probably try to talk Tony out of of any kind of serious punishment, but not if Steve does it on purpose. 

They crawl across the floor, shoulders bumping, so that Steve actually glances over at him and grins a little, until they get to the bathroom door. “He’ll tell us if he ever wants us on our knees in here,” Bruce says. “Otherwise the rule is we can be on our feet. Tiles are not very forgiving to bare knees.”

“Okay,” Steve says, and they both stand, and go into the bathroom. Tony is already in the shower, using a tiny shaving mirror affixed to the wall to touch up the lines of his goatee with a straight razor, his hands nimble and competent with the blade in a way that is enough to heat Bruce. 

“There you are,” Tony says, glancing away from the mirror to look at them, the razor held easily in his right hand. “I thought I was going to have to go out and find out what was taking so long.” The wording makes it half a question, just a request for information that Tony is leaving up to them whether or not to fulfill.

“I kind of had to explain bath attendance to Steve,” Bruce volunteers. “I was trying to make sure that he didn’t think he was required to come if he was already doing something, and I said you didn’t need him to attend you, and then I had to explain what that meant, which I kind of didn’t expect, because if you could have had Steve attending you for the last few months, and have not for some reason, I have to confess that I’m surprised.”

Tony laughs. “Come in,” he says, and gestures to an opening in the glass wall that lines one side of the shower. Bruce steps around Steve and steps into the spray at once, and Steve only hesitates for a moment. Tony reaches around both of them and slides the glass panel closed, then turns on one of the other shower heads -- there are four, and Tony currently has two on, both on his side of the shower -- and says, “Get the other one, Bruce. I don’t want to reach around you that far while holding a straight razor.” Bruce turns and locates the only shower head that isn’t actively spraying them, and turns it on. “Just crank it until it stops moving,” Tony says. “I have Jarvis moderate the shower temperature in here so you can only adjust the temperature from one of the knobs. The rest all spray at the same temp as the main showerhead. Otherwise you could end up with some fairly serious temperature discrepancies in here.”

Bruce moves more into the center of the shower, where water is striking his chest and back, but not falling directly on his head, and Steve does the same thing at almost the same time. He looks at Tony, and really wants to ask again about why Tony hasn’t been having Steve attend him, and really can’t think of a way to do it that doesn’t come across as pushy, and it’s not really in his nature to be pushy. Steve is an entirely different kind of sub than Bruce is, because he asks, “Why wouldn’t you have been having me play bathroom attendant for you for all this time? Natasha has done it a little, though she didn’t call it anything in particular, but neither your nor Coulson has ever mentioned it.” He actually sounds a little distressed. Not hurt, exactly, but not happy either.

Tony gives him a long, measuring look and says, “Let me finish this up and put this blade away,” and turns back to his shaving mirror. It only takes Tony another minute or so to touch up the lines of his goatee, and he washes the stubble off the blade, and then leaves it lying open in a niche in the wall that is clearly intended for exactly that purpose, as it has a little sliding door that closes the blade safely out of the way of anyone showering in here. Then Tony turns back to them, and steps close. “Bruce, I’ve never asked you to attend me because I just haven’t gotten around to it yet. I like it, and I’ll enjoy having you do it, but it isn’t something I want all the time or anything. Mostly I’m in the shower to get clean, and if I want attendance, I’ll have you draw me a bath.” He pats Bruce’s cheek gently. Then he looks at Steve. “You haven’t been attending me because I didn’t want any cross-over from your military training to become involved in you subbing for me. I didn’t want to mess with your wiring that way, and full attendance, and all that it entails, can do that. Coulson and I actually discussed it, and decided that we both thought it might confuse you, or push your buttons in a way that neither of us wanted to push them. We didn’t think to talk to Nat, and I think it’s a little different for a woman to have you attend her in the bath than it would be for me to teach you how to do it, anyway. Did she just ask? Or did she order?”

Steve thinks about that for a long moment, and then shakes his head a little. “I’m not entirely sure, but I think she just asked. At least, it didn’t feel like she was giving me orders. I thought it was nice, though. I liked doing it for her. I even liked shaving her legs.”

Tony’s eyes widen just for an instant, and then he half laughs, and catches Steve by the back of the neck and pulls him into his arms. “I’m sorry, Steve,” he says, lips brushing the hinge of Steve’s jaw. “If you can be content shaving Natasha’s legs, then it’s a pretty good bet you would have enjoyed attending me or Coulson while bathing as well. We made a bad call, I think. Do you feel cheated?”

Steve stands very still for a long moment, and then leans down to rest his forehead against Tony’s shoulder. “Yeah. A little. Not too much, because I sort of understand why you might decide not to confuse me with something like this. But, Tony, I think I would have liked it. So yeah, I feel a little cheated.”

“Attendance covers a whole range of behaviors in different settings, Steve,” Tony says, hand still curled lightly around the back of Steve’s neck. “For example, if you were going to attend me while we ate, you’d serve me and wait to eat until either I gave you permission, or fed you myself. It seemed better to set aside all of that with you, because it can be semi-public, and if you get used to having a sub that attends you in the bath, you start thinking of that sub as someone who might attend you under other circumstances. We just agreed that you probably wouldn’t want to do some of the things that attending a dominant entails, but we didn’t do it to cheat you. We did it not to confuse you and not to push you. I’m sorry. I, at least, should have talked to you about what you were willing to do, as far as submissive behaviors go, when we first started doing it. I made a bad call.”

“Maybe,” Steve says. “I don’t know, now. I remember being really edgy at first, and I might have turned you down. I think. Well, I think if you had said you just wanted it in the bath, I would have probably said yes, but if you had said it went along with other things, things we do in public, I would have said no. So maybe you were right, and I wouldn’t have wanted to. I kind of want to now, though.” He raises his head and looks at Tony from only about three inches away. “Now, the idea feels kind of…” Steve trails off for a long moment, then gives a little one shouldered shrug. “Almost like it might be kind of soothing,” he finally admits.

“You’ve already done it a little,” Tony says. “Not on purpose, and not because I’ve asked you to, but if I’m busy with my hands and you think I should be eating, you’ve fed me. That isn’t exactly what attendance generally means, but it’s a form of it, or can be.”

“That’s… good for you?” Steve asks, and then he smiles a little crookedly. “I wondered why you let me do it, kept letting me do it. I really thought the first time I did it that you’d be annoyed and wave me off and feed yourself. I didn’t connect it with sex or submission, but I can sort of see it in hindsight.” He laughs softly. “I don’t see why you didn’t change your mind about the attendance things after doing that a few times.”

“Because it was never in public, not really,” Tony says. “It was almost exclusively in my workshop, where all I really did want was an extra pair of hands, if you were going to try to feed me while I was trying to work anyway.” Tony smiles a little, too, and shakes his head. “It didn’t really cross my mind. Live and learn.” He fixes Steve with his gaze. “If you want to attend me right now, Bruce can show you what to do, but if you aren’t in a big hurry, I have a suggestion.” Steve just cocks his head in question. Tony says, “Offer to attend Coulson first. I’ve gotten to have all your firsts, Steve, and I suspect pretty strongly that if you want to give him this one, he’d appreciate being the first to really have it, Natasha notwithstanding.”

Steve’s eyes go a little dark and glittery, like maybe he likes the idea, but he just nods. “Okay, I will,” he says. “If you think he’d want it.”

“I do,” Tony says. “There isn’t much that Coulson wouldn’t want from you, especially if you were offering it up willingly, knowing what you were offering.”

“Okay,” Steve says, lips quirking. “In that case, what does one do in a large group in the shower.”

“This is nowhere near a large group,” Tony says kind of loftily, and drags a handful of wash clothes out of a cupboard set above the showerheads. He tosses them each one, looks thoughtful, and then says, “Bruce, what do you think about the two of us attending Steve. It gives him an example of what he’d be doing, and also lets him feel how good it is for the person being attended.”

“And plus we get to run our hands all over Steve’s naked, wet body,” Bruce says dryly, and Tony swats at him with his washcloth. “No, I think it’s a great idea. Maybe turn off a couple of the showerheads, two diagonally from each other. That way there is still plenty of water, but not so much that we’re half drowning while we wash his feet.”

“Make it so,” Tony says, and reaches for one of the faucets. Bruce turns off the one diagonally to it, and Steve looks a little startled when they both sink down to their knees on the shower floor.

“What do I do?” Steve asks, looking down at both of them with his eyes a little wide.

“That’s the beauty of being attended to,” Tony says. “You don’t have to do anything. If there’s anything that we do that you especially like, you can ask of us to do more of that particular thing, but generally speaking, a sub that has any experience in attending a dominant in the bath is going to just sort of work his or her way up or down that dominant’s body, and will probably be able to tell where to linger, like if Coulson ends up having tense shoulders or something. It’s not even necessary that the person attending be a sub if he or she knows the other person well enough to read their body language. It’s not hard. Just relax, and let us show you.”

Bruce leans forward and kisses Steve’s knee, and Steve’s eyes don’t look quite so wide and his lips curve into a faint smile. “Okay,” he says. “I guess I’m at your disposal.”

“The other way around, really,” Tony says absently, and reaches up for a bottle of body wash that lives on one of the many niches and shelves in the enormous shower. He pops open the top and squeezes a blob onto his washcloth and then holds the bottle out toward Bruce. Bruce offers his washcloth, and Tony squeezes a blob of soap onto it, then just sets the bottle aside. “Start on your side so he can use me to balance, then we’ll switch,” Tony says, though it comes across more as a suggestion than as an order.

Bruce is happy to oblige, though, and rubs his washcloth between his hands to produce suds, and starts with the top of Steve’s left foot. He keeps his hands firm and slow, and when he’s done with the top of Steve’s foot, says, “Okay, Steve, lift your left foot. You can use Tony’s shoulders to help you keep your balance if you need to.”

On cue, Tony kneels up a little taller, so that Steve doesn’t have to bend as much to reach his shoulders. Steve rests a hand on Tony’s shoulder tentatively and lifts his left foot, and Bruce gently bends his knee so the bottom of his foot is totally off the floor, and washes, careful to keep the pressure of his hands firm so as not to accidentally tickle. Steve sighs out a soft breath, and balances patiently on one foot for Bruce to get between his toes and then to rinse his washcloth and wipe the soap away from the bottom of his foot, so it isn’t slippery. He eases Steve’s foot down, and then goes up higher on his knees even as Tony kneels down further and washes Steve’s other foot, his hands competent and caressing, clearly experienced. Tony just has to nudge at Steve’s foot a little to get him to lift it, and Steve rests a hand lightly on Bruce’s shoulder while Tony washes the bottom and then rinses away the suds. 

Tony reaches for the body wash bottle again, depositing more soap on both of their washcloths, and Steve looks down at them, his eyes looking a little dazed as they work on his legs, and it’s easy to fall into sync with Tony on speed, so that they work their way up to Steve’s thighs at more or less the same time. Tony shifts around on his knees, so he’s slightly behind Steve, which is fine with Bruce. He’d rather wash the front anyway. Steve’s eyes go comically wide at something Tony does behind him, and Bruce cuts his eyes down to hide a smile and begins to gently wash Steve’s cock, which had risen to express its approval of the experience before they’d even reached mid thigh, and his balls, paying careful attention to the creases between balls and thighs, then rinsing his washcloth to wipe away the soap residue from those places. Steve moans just a little when Bruce draws back away from his cock, and Bruce impulsively drops a light kiss on the crown before he glances at Tony, who is already watching him, and they both rise to their feet, Tony with the bottle of bodywash in his hand again.

Bruce works his way up Steve’s hips to his chest, while Tony gets his back, and they move again, mirroring each other, to scrub their way down Steve’s arms. Steve’s left hand spasms a little as Bruce washes it, as if it wants to grab at Bruce and Steve is managing to keep it in check. When they finish his hands, they each take a shoulder, and Bruce slings his washcloth over his own shoulder and just uses his bare hands to rub at the shoulder he’s working on, and sees that Tony has done the same. Steve’s head rocks back on his neck a little and he groans aloud this time, and Tony flashes Bruce a quick and wicked smile from around the front of Steve’s body. They linger on Steve’s shoulders, just because he seems to like it so much, and then Tony goes for the shampoo and says, “You’re going to have to get on your knees for either of us to be able to reach up far enough to wash your hair comfortably, Steve,” in a tone that is clearly not a command, just conveying information. Steve sinks down onto his knees without a word, and Tony looks at Bruce. “Do you mind?” he asks, and Bruce shakes his head and steps back a little, just as content to watch Tony wash Steve’s hair as he would have been to do it himself, if that’s what makes Tony happy. 

“Relax back against me for a minute,” Tony murmurs, and Steve does it as if he’s gone boneless. Tony laughs quietly as he tips Steve’s head back into the spray to wet his hair, and then has to nudge him back up to his knees to get his hair back out from under the water. Tony’s strong, clever fingers go to work lathering up Steve’s hair, and Bruce has had his hair washed before and knows how relaxing it can be. Steve maybe has never had the experience, because after only a couple of minutes he’s leaning heavily back against Tony’s thighs, his lashes fluttering along the tops of his cheeks, his face almost a perfect mask of relaxation. Tony merely has to step back slightly to guide Steve’s head under the spray again to rinse his hair, and when he nudges Steve back out of the spray, Steve blinks his eyes open slowly, as if it’s an effort to even bother.

Tony goes down onto his knees and wraps his arms around Steve’s chest from behind. “Good?” he asks, his voice husky with pleasure that Bruce understands completely; it had been a very real pleasure to wash Steve’s cooperative body. Bruce is hard, as is Tony, and Steve’s cock is just as ready as either of theirs.

“Yeah,” Steve says dazedly, seeming to automatically relax back against Tony, which Bruce can’t even blame him for, slumping a little so that he looks like he might like to close his eyes again, resting against Tony’s warmth, and take a nap, except for the erection. “So good,” he breathes. “Amazing.”

Tony kisses the hinge of his jaw from behind and then bites lightly at it, teeth barely grazing at Steve’s skin, but it’s enough to make Steve’s breathing hitch unsteadily. “Think you can get to your feet? Bruce and I still need to wash ourselves,” Tony murmurs.

“If I have to,” Steve says with a rueful little sigh, which makes Tony laugh and scrape his teeth along Steve’s jaw again. Bruce smiles as well, and offers Steve a hand up. Steve takes it, but Bruce hardly has to pull, like Steve uses him more for encouragement than because he actually needs help up. Tony stands behind Steve and then steps around him, and into one of the cascading streams of water, tipping his head back so that it wets his hair at the same time as it streams over his face and chest. Steve watches with so much frank admiration that Bruce would laugh if he weren’t watching with just as much admiration. When Tony brushes water out of his eyes and reaches for the shampoo, he glances up at both of them, and smiles a little smugly. 

“Get clean, Bruce,” he says, and Bruce backs under the other streaming showerhead, wetting his hair and raking it back from his face with both hands. When it’s wet enough, he steps out from under the water, and sees that Steve is washing Tony’s hair, his face sort of set into an adorable little scowl of concentration, his long fingers massaging Tony’s scalp and even squeezing a little at the back of Tony’s neck, and Tony is murmuring out a low sound of approval. Bruce snags the shampoo and is only a little disappointed to be washing his own hair, since he can wash it at the same time that he can watch Steve’s focused frown of determination, obviously trying to make the hair washing as good for Tony as it had been for him. Steve is tall enough that there is no need for Tony to kneel down, and there is no telling how long Steve would have gone on if Tony hadn’t eventually stopped him, opening his eyes to catch the expression on Steve’s face, that little scowl of concentration, and smiling at it even as he leans up to kiss Steve lightly. Bruce rinses the shampoo out of his hair, and by the time he’s scrubbing at his own body with his washcloth, Tony has managed to get his own hair rinsed and is doing the same with his own washcloth. Steve is watching them both, eyes blue and swimming with little eddies of desire, but not touching either of them, or himself. 

Bruce doesn’t even pretend to do as thorough a job on himself as he’d done on Steve, and notices that Tony doesn’t either. They hang their washcloths on a couple of hooks in a long row of them that lines the back wall of the shower, and Bruce turns off the shower head he’s using at almost the same time that Tony turns off his own.

“How does that not always end in sex?” Steve asks into the sudden silence, and Tony laughs out a short, amused bark of sound, and Bruce chuckles as well, though his cheeks heat a little, too.

“Sometimes there isn’t time for it, and sometimes you do it after you’re already both all sexed out, and sometimes it does end in sex, and you end up having to take a second shower,” Tony says wryly.

Steve looks down at his cock and seems to consider it seriously. “I wouldn’t have said showering would be a turn on, even with other people, unless the other people were actually trying to make it sexy. But it wasn’t really sexy, or at least, it wasn’t really about sex. It was just really intensely physically relaxing and pleasurable at the same time, without really being sexual at all. Even when Bruce washed my cock, he didn’t stroke me or anything. He didn’t try to make me get hard.”

“It’s bad form for the sub attending to make it sexual at all unless the dominant indicates that he or she wants sex,” Tony says. “And you were hard way before Bruce got to your cock. It’s just something some people are wired to enjoy, Steve. You respond kind of on the high end, but you’re pretty responsive overall, physically, with any kind of stimulation, so it doesn’t really surprise me.”

Tony reaches above his head to another high cupboard and brings out towels, offering one to each of them before getting one for himself. It’s still steamy and damp in the glassed in shower area, and it will probably be cold out in the main bathroom, but Bruce slides the glass door aside anyway and steps out. He’s immediately covered in goosebumps, but it also clears some of the swimmy lust out of his head, so he considers it a fair trade. He towels off briskly, though not before he steps out from in front of the door in case Tony or Steve wants to follow him out. He’s working on drying his hair when Tony swats him lightly on the bottom -- he knows it’s Tony, because he doubts it would even occur to Steve that it would be okay to swat Bruce at this point in their relationship -- and says, “Turn around here so I can look at your chest.”

Bruce turns and lets Tony steal his towel, though he does try to finger-comb his hair into some kind of order while Tony gazes thoughtfully at Bruce’s chest. He runs his hand across it lightly, which makes Bruce shiver pleasantly, but doesn’t hurt at all, and then curls his fingers and drags his short nails down the same skin. That hurts a little, but only with the immediate pain of it. There’s nothing left over from Tony cropping his front two days ago. Tony glances a question at him, and Bruce shakes his head. Tony tweaks one of Bruce’s nipples, and not very gently, and Bruce lets out a sharp gasp. Tony looks at him again, and Bruce nods. Those are still sore. 

Tony stretches out one of Bruce’s arms, and there are still faint lines of bruises regularly spaced along the insides, but they are very faint. “Let me look at your thighs,” Tony says, and Bruce twists one leg out to the side, looking down as well, and sees that the bruises there are faded and yellowing a little, but still darker than the ones left on his arms. “Hrmmm,” Tony says, and rakes his nails across the bruises, which hurts, but not badly, not like they had hurt when Tony had laid them down. “Seriously, any other sub I’ve topped would still be bruised from the collarbones to the knees, Bruce. You may not heal as fast as Steve, but you heal pretty fucking fast.”

“I don’t really have any experience to compare it with except how fast I healed before the serum, Tony,” Bruce says. “I haven’t done this since I turned myself into a monster. I can’t really remember how fast I healed before. I have to take your word for it.” He shrugs a little. “I can compare it to other injuries I’ve gotten since the serum, but not these kinds of injuries. And most of those injuries resulted in a transformation, so I don’t even have a lot of data points there to give you.”

“Not really the kinds of things I’m looking for anyway,” Tony says a little absently, still gazing down at the faded bruises on the inside of Bruce’s thigh. He presses a fingertip against one of them experimentally, and Bruce lets out a soft sound of pain, but it’s not the same kind of painful that these marks had been when fresh, or even yesterday. “I can’t tell if I’m happy or irritated.”

Bruce shifts a little uncertainly, and Tony glances up at him and catches his gaze. “Mostly happy, because I can have my way with you more often than I’d usually expect to be able to. A little irritated because I still wanted these bruises on your thighs to be fresh enough to lay down X’s, and they won’t be as pretty now that they’re not so dark.”

Bruce smiles a little and feels his face heat. “Sorry,” he says, even though he’s not, not really, and Tony snorts as though he knows it. Steve is looking over Tony’s shoulder at Bruce’s thigh as though merely curious. “These will probably be more or less gone by tomorrow. You could lay fresh X’s then.”

“I’m tempted to lay them down anyway, and just keep your thighs marked all the time,” Tony says. “Just switch the direction I swing from every day.”

“If you want to,” Bruce agrees. “They take a little longer to heal than every other day, so you’re not going to be able to get nice, crisp marks if you do that.”

“Would you really do that?” Steve asks. “Just keep laying down new bruises on top of the old ones so that they never really heal?” He sounds a little uncertain.

“I could do it,” Tony says. “Bruce is definitely into pain enough to let me, and I might do it for a week or so, but no, I wouldn’t keep them bruised indefinitely. He’s right, the marks would start to get blurry, and even a sub with superior healing abilities needs to heal up fully at least some of the time, just to make sure he’s still healthy.” Tony kisses Bruce lightly on the mouth. “Do you want to go to your floor to get some clothes? You’re a little too tall for most of my pants, and a little too broad for most of my shirts. If you wanted, you could bring a few things back here.”

“Sure,” Bruce says, smiling a little, pleased at the offer. “Can I steal that pair of black shorts again to get me there with my modesty mostly intact.”

“Of course, if it makes you happy. I doubt anyone would have a problem running into you while you happened to be naked, but I’m not going to insist that you move between floors in nothing. Mostly, anyway.” He grins. Bruce blushes a little, but just shakes his head.

“You’re a bad man,” he says.

“I absolutely am. I think those shorts are still lying on the floor on the side of the bed,” Tony tells him.

“Thanks,” Bruce says, and Tony swats him on the ass again when Bruce turns to leave the bathroom to retrieve the shorts. This time he does it hard enough to make Bruce gasp and his skin tingles brightly, and he’s pretty sure he’d been right on the money about how well Tony could deliver a spanking, if he wanted to go at Bruce bare-handed.

He hears Tony ask if Steve has clothes in his room, but doesn’t hear the answer as he searches for and locates the shorts he’d worn so briefly yesterday. He slides them on, Tony’s handprint still warm on his ass, and reminds himself to bring his own comb up along with extra clothes. Tony’s combs are just never going to work with as much curl as Bruce has in his hair.

Bruce doesn’t like to think of himself as vain, but he can’t deny that he’s dressing for Tony in pressed dark gray slacks and a maroon button up shirt that he know flatters his body and coloration. He gathers a few more things together, including some things that are a little more informal, and finds a small tote to carry the informal clothes, plus socks and underwear; he’ll carry the things on hangers draped over his arm. He adds his favorite tea to the tote, and then, after a few moments of consideration, yoga clothes. His mat won’t fit, but he doesn’t really need the mat to run through the basics, and if he’s going to be doing things that stiffen up his muscles on a regular basis, he wants to have clothes readily available to wear when he needs to stretch to loosen up.

When he returns to the penthouse, Tony and Steve are cooking breakfast again, though no one else seems to be up and about yet. Tony takes Bruce into his bedroom to shove back some of the clothes in another walk in closet, one that hadn’t been converted into space for Steve, and Bruce wonders how many walk in closets one person really needs. Tony clears a drawer out of his chest of drawers for Bruce’s less formal attire and socks and underwear, and then distracts Bruce thoroughly while he tries to put things away by running his hands along his body outside his clothes, smoothing the fabric taut against his chest, and then back, and then cupping his cock through the slacks until Bruce’s cock is all the way hard again, after having gone down a bit while he’d been packing. He’s saved by Steve calling out that the hash browns are going to burn, which summons Tony back into the kitchen, and leaves Bruce grinning rather foolishly at Tony’s attentions while he puts the rest of his underthings in a drawer.

When he comes back out into the penthouse, Tony is saying, “... says that he might be okay with an audience during the caning. If he can do it, I’d like to let him try, but not if it’s going to make you uncomfortable.

Steve, making waffles this time instead of pancakes, is frowning slightly, but not as though he’s especially worried. “Are you sure he wants the whole team there? Was this his idea, or did you suggest it?”

“Completely his idea, I never would have suggested it,” Tony says. “I’m fully prepared to handle Bruce with as much care as he needs for as long as he needs, as regards the rest of the team. He brought it up this morning, before we even got out of bed. It’s still mostly up to you. I pretty much trust Bruce if he says he can deal with it, but this is something very new for you, and we will both understand if it’s not something you want to do in front of everyone.”

Tony sets the hash browns onto a back burner with a lid on the skillet to keep them warm and then starts on a skillet full of eggs. Bruce would have never have guessed before moving into the tower that Tony would like to cook, and it’s kind of misleading, his breakfast-making skills. He seems to only like to cook when he’s doing it in company and _for_ company, and his talents run mostly only to breakfast foods. Still, Tony cracks eggs with the same kind of quick efficiency that his hands have at everything else he does, and Bruce is a little mesmerized with watching until he realizes that both Tony and Steve have gone silent, and are looking at him where he’s lurking in the entryway.

Bruce comes the rest of the way into the room, embarrassed, but Tony just says, “There are peppers and onions in the fridge, and if you could grate some cheese for the eggs, that would be great, Bruce.”

Bruce moves in to help automatically, happy to have something to do, and is already washing vegetables before he realizes that the conversation has stopped, and hadn’t really been finished. “If it bothers you, Steve, I don’t mind trying something else later to… to exhibit for the rest of the team.” He blushes a little as he says it, but it’s true enough, so he merely takes down a cutting board from a hook and retrieves a knife from the knife block and begins dicing vegetables.

“I’m afraid,” Steve says. “But I’m not afraid of them seeing me. I’m just afraid of how I’m going to respond in general. As long as I know someone will take care of me after, if I need it, then I think it’s fine. I don’t have a lot to hide from the rest of the team. They’ve mostly seen it all.”

“Not this, they haven’t,” Tony says. “And if you want to keep your reaction, whatever it is, to the caning private, that’s not an unreasonable desire, Steve.”

“They know we’re going to try it anyway,” Steve says. “They’re going to want to know how it goes.” He shrugs and eases half a dozen waffles out of Tony’s giant waffle iron onto a platter with practiced ease. “I’m afraid,” Steve repeats, and looks at Tony. Bruce stops what he’s doing to look at Steve, because his voice almost demands that you stop and witness what he’s feeling. It’s all over Steve’s face, his fear, it’s in the set of his body and in the tightness of his jaw, but there is determination there, too. “I’m afraid, but not of them seeing whatever it is that happens. I’m afraid of what’s going to happen itself. The rest of the team being there isn’t going to change how I react to what is going to happen.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Tony says softly. “There are easier ways to test your pain tolerances. We can start a lot smaller and work our way up to whatever level of pain turns out to be right for you. I wanted it as an experiment, and I wanted it a little to see if you’d react to it, but I don’t want it enough to make you dread it, Steve. That’s not what I want at all.”

Steve smiles a little, and turns back to the waffle iron to pour batter into it. “I’ve got to know, now,” he says tightly. “It’s like an itch all over my skin, all over my _mind_ almost. I’ve got to know if I can take it. I want to let Phil do it. I know he wants to, has wanted to do something like this to me for a long time. And you are going to let Bruce fuck me, which I definitely want.”

Tony absently stirs the eggs in the skillet. “Coulson can hurt you in private, in smaller steps, and I’d let Bruce fuck you no matter what. I’m thrilled to let Bruce fuck you. It doesn’t have to be this hard right off the bat, is all I’m saying.”

Steve shakes his head, tapping lightly at the waffle iron as it cooks. He’s still got a faint smile on his lips. “I don’t want to back out, Tony,” he says, and turns to give Tony a soft look. “I’m afraid, but I don’t want to back out.”

Bruce turns away and goes back to chopping vegetables. They all cook and chop silently for a few minutes, and Bruce hands over the diced peppers and onions when Tony asks for them and watches for a few seconds as Tony starts folding them into the scrambled eggs, and then gets to work grating cheese. Tony hadn’t been lying about the grocery shopping the other day. There are all kinds of groceries in the fridge and all the cupboards now. Bruce smiles a little at that, and accepts a swat on the ass for not grating cheese fast enough, even though he’s pretty sure that’s not why he’s getting swatted on the ass. He hands a bowl of cheese over to Tony, who moves the skillet off the hot burner and sprinkles the grated cheese over the top of the still-hot eggs, so that there will be a nice layer of melted cheese over them when they’re ready to serve.

“Jarvis, let everyone know breakfast is ready in the penthouse,” Tony says a little tautly, and Bruce brushes bits of cheese off his hands and moves over to stand behind Tony and rub his bare shoulders. Tony lets his head fall back loose on his neck, so Bruce doesn’t stop, even when the elevator dings, announcing that they are about to have company.

Coulson and Clint come in together, Coulson looking much as he does on work days, though he isn’t wearing a suit coat, and Clint in nothing but a pair of extremely tight sweats, his eyes hooded and sleepy looking, and Bruce is sure Tony had been right about Coulson finding Clint to take what he had wanted to give last night. They both pause before sitting down though, and Bruce realizes after a few seconds that they seem to be a little taken aback at seeing Tony without a shirt, arc reactor displayed along with all the scars, but Tony hardly seems to notice their reaction. Steve leans in and murmurs to Tony, “You might want to get a little more dressed than those p.j. bottoms, Tony,” keeping his voice easy and relaxed, as though nobody has noticed anything, and Tony blinks a little, like he hadn’t realized at all that he was still topless, then tugs gently free of Bruce’s hands. 

“Yeah, I’ll be right back,” he says without looking around, and vanishes into the bedroom.

“Why did you do that?” Bruce whispers to Steve as Steve is transferring more waffles onto the platter. “If he was comfortable enough to let the arc reactor show, you should have let him.”

“Comfortable with you and me,” Steve whispers back. “He’d have been upset once he realized that everyone was looking.” Steve sounds sure, and Bruce has never seen Tony outside the bedroom without a shirt on, so he suspects that Steve is probably right, but he’s still a little disappointed. If they’ve all been sleeping with Tony, then they must have all seen it. He doesn’t like it that it still bothers Tony to show it unless he’s in the act of having sex. He doesn’t like it that Tony feels like he has to hide it from people. 

Clint and Coulson have taken a seat at the bar, and Bruce is setting out plates when Tony returns at the same time that the elevator dings, and Thor, Jane, and Darcy all come pouring out in a bubbling wave of conversation that doesn’t stop until Steve slides waffles onto their plates. Tony offers everyone eggs, which Coulson and Clint accept, and the other three don’t. Bruce takes eggs and hash browns, and waves away a waffle when Steve offers it. Natasha and Pepper come up together, and Bruce finds more plates, and the conversation is lively and quick, and both Tony and Steve seem fairly relaxed as they eat and talk, so Bruce starts to relax as well. He’s still not sure that the conversation had been all the way finished, but he’s not sure it hadn’t been either. And it’s not really his concern. 

If Tony is satisfied with Steve’s acceptance of an audience, then Bruce doesn’t have much say in the matter. It’s not his place to argue for or against what another sub wants or doesn’t want, and while he will worry a little about it, because he cares about Steve a lot, he won’t interfere. Once that is more or less settled in his mind, Bruce turns his attention more toward breakfast and their company.

Coulson says, “I see he let you get dressed in real clothes today,” face mild, with just a hint of curve to his lips.

Bruce blushes a little, and shrugs. “I could have yesterday, but my chest was still store enough that I didn’t want anything exacerbating it,” he says. “Tony only occasionally seems to want to dictate what I wear in public.”

“And your chest is mostly healed up today?” Coulson asks in that same mild tone, as if he’s merely curious.

“My nipples are still a little tender, but not so bad that I’m having trouble with my shirt irritating them,” Bruce says, blushing a little more, because while the rest of the table doesn’t seem to be paying much attention to what Bruce and Coulson are saying, he’s still very aware that they could, and at least part of the people at the table aren’t team members. Coulson looks at him, gaze measuring, and drops the subject, apparently not feeling the need to call attention to Bruce’s new status in front of their guests in any particular way, though his expression seems to indicate that he still has things to say to Bruce. At least, Bruce thinks that is what he’s seeing on Coulson’s face; Coulson is a little hard to read at the best of times, and Bruce is still just nervous enough that he wouldn’t call this the best of times.

He glances across the table at Steve, and sees that Steve, in contrast, doesn’t really look nervous at all. He isn’t joining in much in the conversation flowing around the table, but his expression is mostly peaceful, like he’s made up his mind and isn’t questioning the decision he’s made. Seeing it actually settles Bruce’s nerves a little, makes him question his decision less, because he’d been mostly worried that having the team looking on would in some way be bad for Steve.

It occurs to Bruce that they have neglected to ask Coulson if he’s okay with having an audience, and he bites his lower lip a little, trying to think of a way to inquire casually, without going into specifics.

Pepper and Jane and Darcy aren’t strangers, not really, but Bruce doesn’t feel anywhere near as comfortable talking about the forthcoming events of the day with them all sitting within listening distance. He shifts a little in his seat uncertainly, and Tony catches his gaze and holds it, a clear question on his face. Bruce shakes his head a little, feeling his cheeks heat, and Tony frowns faintly, but seems inclined to let it go. When Bruce looks away from Tony, he’s immediately caught up in Coulson’s gaze, and he feels his flush go even hotter. Coulson regards him silently for several long seconds, holding Bruce’s eyes firmly enough with his gaze that Bruce doesn’t feel like he can look away, and then says, “Bruce, why don’t you help me with getting the table cleared. I’ll load the dishwasher if you’ll clean the waffle iron. I hate cleaning anything that can’t go underwater.”

Bruce senses more than sees Tony’s attention on himself and Coulson, but he just nods, and says, “Sure. I don’t mind the waffle iron, really. It’s better than having to scrape all that melted cheese out of Tony’s egg skillet.”

No one but Tony seems to take much note of the two of them getting up and clearing plates, though they cooperate with passing plates to them once they realize that they’re trying to clear the table. The conversation doesn’t lag, though, and Pepper is telling a story about something funny that had happened when she and Natasha had taken Maria out for the day, and Bruce throws a glance at Tony, who is looking at him with a brow arched. “Later,” Bruce murmurs, and Tony’s other brow rises a little in surprise, but he nods his understanding. 

Bruce unplugs the waffle iron and carries it over to one side of the sink, where he’ll be able to wipe all the cooked on bits of batter into the garbage disposal, and where, not really coincidentally, Coulson is going to be standing while he loads the dishwasher. They both pause to roll their sleeves up over their forearms, and Bruce isn’t sure which one of them is supposed to start talking first, but he knows why he wants to talk to Coulson, but doesn’t know why Coulson wants to talk to him, and so he dampens a clean sponge and gets to work on the waffle iron, willing to wait and see what Coulson has to say. Coulson turns the water on and starts scraping bits of egg and potato into the disposal, and says, quietly enough that Bruce is pretty confident that no one at the bar will be able to overhear them, “I wanted to ask for your opinion on something about Steve.”

“I’ll tell you anything I know, but I’m not sure I know enough to be of much use,” Bruce says.

“I want your read on how he’s going to respond to a caning. You said you’ve been caned before, and you’re not as laissez faire about it as Tony is, so I assume someone did it to you right. After what happened with you last night, I have some hopes that Steve will respond well to some level of physical pain, but caning is at the other extreme from what you did to him. I know you can’t really know, but I have a lot of faith in your instincts about Steve. I want to know how you think he’ll react.” Coulson’s voice is calm and matter-of-fact, no edge of nerves or anything that Bruce can detect, but he thinks something must be bothering Coulson for him to even bring it up.

“I think it’s going to hurt him more than he’s prepared to handle because he doesn’t have any idea of how much it’s going to hurt, but I don’t think that’s going to stop him from responding well to it, physically. I think he’s going to think he can’t do it at some point, once he realizes how much it’s really going to hurt him, but I don’t think he’ll safeword, and I think that once he gets past that first real rush of pain, he’ll settle into it. I think he’s going to show well.” Bruce hesitates and then, when Coulson doesn’t actually ask him any more questions, says, “Steve and I have talked about having the rest of the Avengers as an audience. We are both okay with it, but obviously you should get a say in whether or not that happens as well.”

Coulson gives him a brief, intense look, studying his face with slightly narrowed eyes, and then asks, “Was this your idea or his? Or Tony’s, for that matter.”

“My idea,” Bruce says. “Something Steve said to me last night about not undervaluing what the rest of the team feels for me.” Bruce flushes a little, and gives a little shrug. “I need to feel like I have a solid place in their lives, but I have to do my part to give them opportunities to show me that I do. I can’t just wait around for it to happen on its own. It’s not fair to them.”

“I agree,” Coulson says, voice low and deep, and Bruce glances up and Coulson catches him with his eyes again, Coulson’s dark with desire this time, expression pleased, maybe a little proud. “If neither you nor Steve have a problem with the team being present, then I don’t,” he says. “I’d rather have the rest of our guests elsewhere during, however.”

“No, me, too,” Bruce says. “Only the team for this.” He pauses and then asks, “Are you worried about scaring Steve? Because I don’t think he’s that easily scared. I explained to him the degree of difference between a spanking and a caning. He doesn’t really understand it, not in concrete terms, but he does know. Even if he doesn’t like it -- which I honestly think he will, but I can’t tell you exactly why I think so -- but even if he doesn’t, I don’t think it would stop him from being willing to explore a lesser level of pain with you, to find out what is good for him.”

“I’ll have to do that anyway, even if he likes it,” Coulson says. “Just because a sub can get off on caning level degrees of pain doesn’t mean that’s what they want all or even most of the time. You’re a special case.” Coulson gives him a brief, hot look. “You really would take a caning pretty much any time your dominant wanted to give you one, and you’d enjoy it thoroughly. That’s not necessarily going to be true of Steve. If he responds like you seem to think he’ll respond, a lot of it may be because of the way he’s built it up in his mind, and he’s not going to have that same level of desire for it every day, most likely.” Coulson starts sliding rinsed off plates into the lower rack of the dishwasher. “Tell me something, Bruce,” he says, low and a little tight. “Are you a screamer?”

Bruce’s face goes hot all over again, and he bends over the waffle iron with his sponge, carefully swiping batter out of every crevice. He doesn’t really even consider not answering, though. Something about Coulson compels honesty. “Given no other direction, I tend to be, yes,” he says, and flicks his eyes up in time to see Coulson smile faintly, though he isn’t looking at Bruce, is working on scraping cheese out of the egg skillet.

“Given no other direction, meaning that you have had training at submitting to a beating silently?” Coulson asks.

“Not silently,” Bruce says. “Not really. But not loudly, either. I will cry. I won’t be able to help it. And I may even slip and let out a few lower pain sounds. But I can keep myself from screaming my way through it. I’ve had experience at holding myself in check that way.” Bruce is the faintest bit offended, and isn’t sure why. “I’m not a novice,” he says.

“No, I know you aren’t,” Coulson says. “I also know it’s been a while for you. I want you to be as quiet as you can be, and I wanted to know if you think you’re capable of it, because it’s been a while, and I suspected it wasn’t your default response to pain.” Now Coulson’s voice is low and soothing, even gentle, and when Bruce glances up, Coulson is looking at him with measuring eyes.

“I can do it. Why do you want it? Because of Steve?” Bruce asks. “Because Steve has heard me scream before. It’s not going to spook him.”

“Not for Steve. For me. Just because I like it that way. I like to hear the small sounds you can’t keep back more than I like to just wring screams of pain out of a submissive. Both can be nice, but for this, I’d like it if you contained yourself as well as you’re able. That way I know that whatever escapes is something I earned fairly.”

Sudden desire arcs hotly down Bruce’s spine to twist between his hipbones, and he has to lick his abruptly dry lips to reply. “I’d be happy to do that for you, sir,” he says truthfully, though he can’t quite bring himself to look up to see if Coulson is watching him still.

“Thank you, Bruce,” Coulson says after a few seconds, and then goes back to scrubbing out the egg skillet. Bruce concentrates on cleaning the waffle iron, and is just wiping around the outer edge for anything that might have dripped out, when Coulson asks, “Do you plan to fuck him as soon as I’m done caning him?”

Bruce hadn’t really considered it. “It really depends on what shape we’re both in when you finish with us,” he says finally. “Chances are, I will be up for it, assuming that I don’t shoot more than once during the actual caning, but I really have no idea what Steve will need once you finish with him. He might need you to take him away and help him through the aftermath of such a big pain, when he’s so new to it.”

Coulson is silent for several seconds, and Bruce looks over curiously, and catches an odd expression on Coulson’s face, a kind of disbelieving eagerness that is a little unsettling in its intensity. “Do you mean to say that you could come from the caning alone, without any other kind of stimulation?” he asks, voice quite soft.

“I have in the past,” Bruce says truthfully. “I haven’t been a position to need to since I’ve been with Tony, though I have come dry, when Tony has had me in a cock ring. I have never been able to really come with a cock ring on like some guys can, but I have always been able to come dry, which is almost as good. You should get with Tony on whether or not I’ll be allowed to come while you’re caning me,” Bruce says cautiously. “That’s not really my decision to make.” Coulson bends and puts the egg skillet in the bottom rack of the dishwasher, and then goes to work on the hash browns skillet.

“I will, to be sure,” he says, his tone pleasant and almost neutral, which Bruce suspects is the same as his blank look from last night, and means he doesn’t feel neutrally about the subject at all. Another electric jolt of lust seizes him, knotted low in his belly, and he decides to retreat from the situation before the conversations goes any further, though he’s not sure where else it could really go from here. He uses a paper towel to check each of the little squares in the waffle iron for any left over batter, and it comes away clean, so he’s going to call it a job well done. He picks it up and retreats from the sink -- he knows he’s retreating, and feels slightly cowardly because of it, but also like it’s the perfectly sane thing to do under the circumstances, just from a self-defense standpoint -- and carries it over to Tony.

“Show me where this goes?” he asks, and Tony nods and stands up quickly, leading Bruce to one of the lower cupboards. When he opens it, it seems to be filled with every conceivable household cooking appliance, and Bruce is a little boggled by the sheer number of them, considering that he knows Tony hardly cooks. 

“Just shove it in there, kind of in the back,” Tony says, and they both crouch down to look into the cupboard. “There should be kind of a cleared out spot for it where Steve got it from, and what were you and Coulson chatting about over there for so long?” The last part of the sentence comes out in a very soft murmur, and Bruce figures out where the waffle iron goes and gets it settled back into it’s place, and they both stand up.

“About the audience thing, because I remembered we hadn’t asked him, and then a little bit about how Steve might deal with the caning, and a little bit about my… my training.” Bruce’s face grows hot, but only a little, and it’s Tony, so it’s okay. “I kind of see why you called him the uber dom that first night,” Bruce admits.

Tony chuckles softly, and tugs at a lock of Bruce’s hair. “I’ll want more detail than that later, but for now I’m willing to let it go.” He catches Bruce by the back of the neck and drags him down into a casually filthy kiss that leaves Bruce a little unsteady on his feet when Tony pulls back from it. 

Bruce thinks that between Tony and Coulson, he’s likely to have a hard on all morning, but then decides that it isn’t really fair to blame it entirely on them, since knowing what they are going to be doing after lunch might have kept him hard or mostly hard all morning anyway.

Tony pats him on the ass and goes to sit down at the bar again, and Bruce locates the kettle and fills it with water for tea. He could really use a cup. While he’s preparing it, Natasha asks him what he’s making, and he tells her it’s a chamomile rooibos blend and offers to make her a cup, which she accepts. He asks if anyone else wants a cup, and Pepper tells him that would be lovely, and thanks him with one of her warmest, most dazzling smiles, and Bruce had only brought one tea ball, and can’t find another in Tony’s kitchen, so ends up having to make them one at a time.

Coulson returns to the table with a fresh cup of coffee, and since Bruce is up anyway, he refills Tony’s coffee from the last of the pot and makes another.

His erection doesn’t even hint that it’s going to go away anytime soon, and Bruce resigns himself to working around it and hoping it’s not excruciatingly obvious to everyone else in the room.

By the time he gets his cup of tea, Jane and Darcy have moved to the living area and are playing MarioKarts on the Wii with much good-natured trash talk, and everyone else is still sitting around the bar, working on various beverages, except Thor, who also has a box of pop tarts at his elbow.

Tony says, “So, that thing we were planning with Bruce and Steve is now a team thing, if you guys are interested,” and Coulson chuckles at Clint sputtering into his coffee, and shakes his head at Tony as though thinking there surely must have been a better way to bring it up than that. “Team only, sorry, Pep. You’ll have to hang out with Darcy and Jane.” Pepper looks politely puzzled, but agrees that she and the other two ladies can amuse themselves for a couple of hours.

“I’ve been meaning to take them out shopping with the company card for months really, but whenever we’re all three here at the same time, one or the other of them is too busy having sex.” Pepper smiles broadly. “Darcy will do her best to put a real dent in your spending power, and I’ll have to convince Jane to pick anything at all, but Darcy will help me.”

“Go peer pressure,” Tony says indulgently. “Have fun. Buy all the shoes, Pep.”

“Don’t tempt me, Tony, I really like shoes,” Pepper says warningly, and Natasha laughs throatily.

“She really does,” Natasha says, and drops one hand below the edge of the bar for a moment, probably to caress Pepper’s knee, if Pepper’s suddenly rosy cheeks are anything to go by. “What time is this team activity supposed to go down?”

“Early afternoon,” Tony says. “Right after lunch really. We probably won’t make a big lunch here, you should consider taking them someplace spendy to eat as well.”

Pepper nods. “When should we be back?” she asks, and dips into her handbag with one delicate hand and comes out with something that looks like it’s half phone and half dayplanner.

Tony looks thoughtfully at Coulson, who steps in smoothly and says, “This kind of team building exercise can take three or four hours. Maybe make plans to meet back here in time for dinner?”

“I’ll cook,” Clint volunteers cheerfully. “I bet I have everything I need for a lasagna.”

“Ooh, you know exactly how to tempt me,” Pepper says, shaking her phone/planner at Clint, who just beams in response and leans back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Okay, I’m pretty sure I can keep us occupied between lunch and dinner,” Pepper decides, and puts her phone/planner away. “What kind of team exercise is this, anyway?” she asks, curious, but casually, as though the answer doesn’t concern her much.

“The kind with unprofessional levels of nudity,” Tony says easily, and Pepper smirks faintly, glancing around the table.

“Who’s going to be naked?” she asks.

“Bruce and Steve,” Tony answers, and Bruce feels his face heat and sees Steve go bright red at the other end of the bar.

“I’m sorry I’ll miss it, then,” Pepper says, teasing faintly, then gives Bruce a soft look, her eyes sliding down to his collar. “Congratulations on your collaring, Bruce,” she says, and seems to really mean it.

“Thank you,” Bruce says, his face still hot, and Pepper changes the subject adroitly to Stark Industries business. Tony teasingly blows her off, which she huffs at, but accepts, and normal conversation resumes around the rest of the table. Bruce has to take several deep breaths to maintain his calm and force his face to cool down. He can feel Natasha looking at him, and glances at her. Her expression is folded into soft lines of concern, and Bruce gives her as reassuring a smile as he can manage. It seems to be enough for her, as she gives him a slight quirk of her lips and then joins in with the rest of the conversation, leaving Bruce relieved and uneasy in equal parts.

He gets up to make himself another cup of tea, because he’ll feel better if he’s doing something. He feels arms wrap around him from behind, and would have known they were Tony’s even if he couldn’t feel the arc reactor pressed into his back. Tony’s arms around him have become familiar in a frighteningly short amount of time. He shivers a little at the silent admission that he might not survive losing Tony, and at the lengths he would go to to make sure that didn’t happen. Then he leans back into Tony’s embrace and lets his head fall back so that it rests against Tony’s shoulder.

“You want to get out of here for a couple of hours?” Tony asks. “You’re jumpier today than you have been around people for a while. Are you sure you’re up for ‘team building exercises?’”

“I am,” Bruce says firmly. “But it’s true that I’m feeling pretty anxious right at the moment. Not sure exactly why.”

“It’s the first time you’ve been out around a bunch of people since you’ve been collared doing regular things,” Tony says. “I mean, not in your subspace showing off or anything, but just normal things, and part of this group are people you don’t know that well. It’s not really surprising that you’re anxious. The beautiful thing about having a newly collared submissive, though, is that you can disappear with him at the drop of a hat pretty much anytime you want to without having to worry about offending anyone.” Tony’s lips brush the shell of Bruce’s ear as he talks, and then he nips playfully at the edge. “Come on. Let’s go entertain ourselves in the bedroom until everyone has cleared out except the team. I’m pretty sure we can come up with something to do.”

Bruce smiles, relaxing a little more. “I don’t doubt it,” he says, and raises his head and turns in Tony’s arms. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to shelter me from people all the time.”

“Not all the time,” Tony says. “And not all people. Don’t be worried about it this time. I know why you’re anxious. They all look at you differently now, even the ones that you aren’t close to, because I’ve made you sexual fair game. They probably won’t do anything about it, but there’s the chance that they might at least offer, and you’re not ready to field an offer. So let me shelter you from this morning, and we’ll revisit the matter next weekend if you’re still so jumpy around non-team members.” Tony presses a kiss to the line of his jaw. “Don’t think about it so much. Let me help you not think about it so much,” he murmurs.

“Yeah, okay,” Bruce agrees, warmth rolling in his belly, his cock still hard and eager in his slacks.

“Besides,” Tony murmurs, “I have ulterior motives. There’s something I want to do to you for when you’re caned, and I can’t do it while you’re still ready to pound nails with your cock.”

Bruce shivers a little at what Tony might want to do to him that would require Bruce’s erection to subside. “Cock cage?” he asks, almost a whisper.

“Something along those lines,” Tony says, lips curled a little cruelly. “Come find out.” Tony drops his arms from around Bruce and catches one of his hands. He tugs Bruce in the direction of the bedroom, and Bruce lets him, because he’d rather be doing almost anything with Tony than spend the rest of the morning trying to socialize normally while he tries to ignore his impending caning and resultant erection, not to mention the possibility of also getting to sink said erection into the gorgeous ass of a willing Steve Rogers, when it has been literally years since he’s had his cock inside another body, which he suspects is going to be truly spectacular, assuming Steve is up for it after his own caning.

Tony tugs him through the door, and Bruce is faintly surprised that they aren’t being catcalled by Clint at the very least, but the door closes behind them without any kind of response at their retreat from anyone else in the penthouse. Tony pauses before they get to the knee line. “Why don’t you undress,” he says. “I don’t see any reason to wrinkle those extremely flattering slacks. I’ll change the bedclothes while you do that. It’s a two man job, really, but I can get it started while you get naked.”

Bruce glances at the bed, and isn’t surprised at all that changing it would be a two man job, but merely says, “Okay, Tony,” and begins buttoning down his shirt even as he toes off he loafers he’s wearing. Tony brings an unlikely pile of bedding from out of the linen closet in the bathroom while Bruce is trying to figure out where to drape his slacks and shirt so they won’t wrinkle, and Tony says, “Just open the kink closet, and pull out the shelving in front, there is more space for clothes behind it.”

“How many clothes do you have, Tony?” Bruce asks, genuinely sort of aghast at the idea that there are more, but he goes to the kink closet, which is right on the edge of the knee line, and pulls it open. The front expands out with shelves and drawers and hooks and little cubbies, and Bruce has to tell himself firmly that he doesn’t have permission to snoop through Tony’s toys. He see’s the handle on the side that swings the front of the closet out, and yep, there is another walk in closet behind it, this one smaller than the others, and it also seems to be only be using a little of it’s space for clothes. Most of the rest of the stuff in this closet is kink related, a couple of pieces of furniture that can be made mobile, and another entire wall of whips and belts in various shapes and sizes. There is also a steamer trunk full of bits of leather and pieces of chain, something or some _things_ that have become all jumbled together, and which Bruce’s slight OCD wants him to take the time to untangle. He resists the urge, and just grabs a hanger and slips his slacks through the opening and slides his shirt on the hanger along with the slacks. He hangs them on one of the mostly empty rods -- he sees three tuxedos, who has _three_ tuxedos? -- as well as several closed, opaque garment bags that pique his curiosity, but he backs out of the closet and slides the kink storage space back in place to cover the door.

Tony has dragged the sheets off of the bed and is in the process of removing the pillowcases from all eight or so pillows, which they never use more than three or four of. Bruce steps out of his underwear and toes them over on top of his shoes. “How can I help?” he asks.

“In a minute, you can help me with the bottom sheet,” Tony says, stripping another pillowcase off another fluffy, pristinely white pillow. “You might as well stay on your feet for this. It might be funny to watch you try to help make the bed on your knees, but it’s not very practical.”

“Thanks,” Bruce says dryly, and Tony shoots him an evil little grin in response to his tone.

The new bedding is dark blue, instead of the pale blue of the old bedding, though Bruce notes that the dark blue and white striped comforter matches both sets of bedding well enough, and wonders whether the next time they change the sheets, the bedding will be white, so they still match the comforter. He splits the stack, removing the pillowcases and setting them on top of the chest of drawers, and then has to actually inspect the two other sheets to see which one is the bottom one, it’s been folded so skillfully and neatly, something Bruce doubts anyone but a professional laundry service is capable of. He finds the bottom sheet, and puts the top sheet on the chest of drawers with the pillowslips. 

“Do you even use the top sheet?” Bruce asks, because he’s never seen one in evidence at any point while they’d been either using the bed or sleeping in it.

“No, not really. I mean, I always start out with a top sheet, but end up with it wedged between the mattress and the footboard sometime in the first week.” He shakes his head. “I’m guessing I kick it off in my sleep, because I don’t ever remember deliberately getting rid of it.” Tony looks as though this is truly something mysterious that he wonders about.

Bruce laughs. He can’t help it. Tony cocks a brow at him, and says, “Tell me about your conversation with Coulson before you get yourself in trouble by laughing at my bedding problems.”

So Bruce repeats the conversation, essentially word for word, watching Tony’s interest kindle in his face as he talks.

“So really, you do have training at taking a quiet beating? Real, deliberate training, I mean?” Tony asks.

“Yeah,” Bruce says, flushing a little. “My first dominant lived in a condo. He used a gag a lot of the time, but he taught me how to take it… well, I’m never silent, and will probably never actually achieve it no matter how hard I try, but I can be mostly quiet. I always cry, and some of the harshest blows will drag sounds out of me, but yeah.”

“Interesting,” Tony says. “How old were you?”

“Sixteen,” Bruce says, and watches Tony’s brows fly upward in surprise. “I was a little precocious,” Bruce says dryly, trying to hold back his smile.

“Jesus Christ, I’d say,” Tony says. “There is definitely going to be some story time in our future, Bruce. I feel like I really have to know how you managed to end up in a sub/dom BDSM relationship at sixteen.”

“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know,” Bruce says, and Tony smiles at him, his expression wide and kind. 

“I know you will,” he says easily. “Come get on the other side of the bed and let’s try to get this sheet on.”

They do get it on, but it’s just as hard as Tony had been hinting that it would be; the bed is almost the same size in every direction, but not exactly, so just figuring out which way the sheet is supposed to fit is an exercise, and the mattress itself is huge and heavy, one of those dual coil springs topped with memory foam and some kind of gel layer on top jobs, which is supposed to make you cooler while you sleep. Tony and Bruce are both breathing hard by the time they get the sheet on. 

“What do you do when I’m not here to help,” Bruce wonders breathlessly.

“Well, lately, because of Steve, I haven’t had the cleaning service messing with the bedroom, so I’ve been having him help me. He’s better at it than either of us. I’m pretty sure I just slow him down and if I left it up to him to do alone it would take him less time. But before Steve, I had the service do it once a week. My cleaning service is the best in town, and they have big men on staff to do heavy lifting chores, like moving furniture to vacuum under it and changing ridiculously oversized beds.”

“Huh,” Bruce says. “So you were serious when you asked if I wanted maid service on my floor? I thought you were joking.”

“No, totally serious. Clint and Thor took me up on it, everyone else seems to prefer to do their own tidying.” He gives Bruce a long glance. “You might think about letting me have them come in and dust once or twice a week on your floor, since I think you’ll be spending a lot of time up here with me.” His face is mostly neutral, but Bruce has learned not to really trust that look.

“If you want to,” he agrees, because it won’t hurt him to give this to Tony, and the pleased, and faintly relieved smile that Tony responds with confirms Bruce’s suspicion that Tony is going to do his best to keep Bruce in the penthouse as much as he can, including by doing things as outrageous as personally keeping groceries in stock, and Bruce doesn’t really mind. There will be times when he’ll want his own space, but for now, and for the immediate future, he doesn’t really even want to be that far away from Tony, and never mind that it’s actually only a short elevator ride between the two places. He wants to sleep in Tony’s bed and cook in Tony’s kitchen, he wants to be in Tony’s space, and he wants Tony to want him there desperately, so it costs him nothing to let Tony send cleaners to his floor a couple of times a week.

“Okay, hand me some pillowcases,” Tony says, piling all the pillows up on the newly smoothed bottom sheet.” Bruce tosses four to Tony and keeps four for himself, and they are silent while they split the mundane chore of changing out pillowcases. While Bruce is shaking he last pillow into a case, Tony asks, “Can you tell me why you think Steve is going to do well with this, Bruce?” Tony’s voice is serious, but he doesn’t try to pin Bruce with his gaze. He tosses the pillows all up to the top of the bed, and adds, “Okay, let’s do the top sheet.”

Bruce grabs the top sheet from the top of the chest of drawers and unfolds it, locates the top end a lot more easily than they had managed to with the bottom sheet, and lets the material loose in his hand, so that he can flip it into the air, and send the other side across the top of the bed into Tony’s waiting hands. Bruce watches how Tony places the sheet and mirrors it on his side of the bed, and since Tony tucks in the bottom, Bruce does, too. Tony grabs the comforter when he’s done, and flips it around, tossing one edge in Bruce’s direction. Bruce catches it and pulls it out flat, and they both tuck the top up under the mountain of pillows. Tony doesn’t tuck the bottom in at all, so they are more or less done.

Tony says, “What did you say to Coulson? That you think that it’s going to hurt him more than he’s prepared to handle, but only because he doesn’t have any way to gauge the degree to which it’s going to hurt, and you think that Steve’s going to think that he can’t do it at some point, but that you don’t think he’ll safeword, and once he get’s past the first real rush of pain, you think he’ll settle into it. Why do you think that, Bruce. What are you seeing in him that I’m not, because I was honestly prepared to do this solely because I genuinely want a comparison between how quickly the two of you heal, and I was prepared to let Coulson do it because Coulson is teaching me, but also because it will get Coulson off in a big way, but the idea of pushing Steve into subspace with it was kind of a longshot in my head. I was pretty sure he could take it, because he’s Captain fucking America, and I thought he might get the glimmer of an idea that might make him think that pain is not something that is completely out of the question for him, but I was not seeing this as something he might actually want until last night, and I’m still not sure he’s actually going to want it once it starts, because while I’ve been caned and didn’t think it was much better or worse than anything else I’ve been hit with, both you and Coulson seem to feel like my experience was subpar, and I’m inclined to believe the toppiest dominant I know and the most masochistic submissive I know when they’re in agreement on something like this. So what is it you see in Steve that makes you think he’s going to take this well. I know you told Coulson you weren’t sure, but I want you to think about it and tell me anything that comes to you about it.”

Bruce sinks down to his knees on the floor beside the bed and chews at his lower lip, thinking hard. Tony circles around the foot of the bed and settles down tailor fashion in front of him and waits.

“I feel like I need to know, because even though Coulson is actually going to be doing it, I’m still who Steve thinks of as his dominant. That may change, I can see it maybe changing, but for right now, I’m still the one he looks to. If I have to talk him through any part of it, I want to have some idea of what is driving him while I do it. Do you get me, Bruce?” Tony asks seriously.

“I do. I’m trying to sort it out in my head. Part of it is just that he is eager for it to be good, Tony. He’s scared of it, too, scared that it will be good because he recognizes that that will change things for him, but he’s eager for it, too. Partly because he’s seen me in my subspace. You know, he told me he’s seen Clint in subspace, too, but he had never wanted what he saw when he saw Clint there.”

“Clint is a power sub,” Tony says, shaking his head. “He’s pushy, mouthy, he fights the dominance, he likes it that way. He likes to be forced into submission. It doesn’t surprise me that Steve would see that and that it wouldn’t, I don’t know, resonate with him, I guess. No matter what else he is, Steve is a fairly gentle soul.” Tony shakes his head. “Go on, what else?”

“So _my_ subspace does resonate for him. He sees it, and he wants it to be that way for him, more than just skimming along the top of his subspace like he does right now. He wants to really feel it, he wants to let it take him over, and the only way he’s seen me get to that subspace is through pain. So he thinks that’s the only way. It’s not, of course. It might not even be the best way for Steve, any other time. Coulson even said that he was still going to have to go through the normal kind of steps you’d go through with any masochistic sub that doesn’t have a clear idea of where his limits are, because Steve has only seen my limits, not his own, and his may turn out to be much lower than mine. But this first time I think it will still work, even if it’s more than what he might normally want, because he _wants_ it to work. That’s the best I can do, Tony, I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you more or more specifically, I wish I could make it certain, but that’s all I really know. I think he’ll take it because he wants to take it, this time, at least, even if his pain threshold is significantly lower normally. He wants this. And he wants to give it to Phil. That’s something, too. That’s at least a part of it. He was really distressed when I explained to him what was wrong with him only submitting to things that didn’t make him uncomfortable. He responded like any sub would, if you told him that he wasn’t doing his part. Steve is all about being fair. He is all about doing his part. He already half-knew that he wasn’t doing his part. He just needed me to explain to him how and why he should want to.”

“No, Bruce, this is good, this is good information. I can work with this if I need to help Steve stay in good headspace during the caning. I don’t think I have to worry much about your headspace,” Tony says, though he upticks the last couple of words, making it almost a question.

“As long as you’re there, I’ll be alright. Preferably standing somewhere I can see you, or if I can’t see you, if you are touching me in some way. It doesn’t have to be anything big. Just your hand in my hair or around my wrist. Just so that I know you’re present and you want it.” Bruce laughs a little. “Honestly, I’m thrilled Coulson is teaching you to cane me. I like caning. It’s hard, and it takes a while to heal, even for me, but I like it a lot, Tony. You don’t have to worry about my headspace. Though. If I could see the setup you’ve got for it, I’d like to. There are certain things that work better for caning than other things, and you might need to rearrange things a little, since caning isn’t something you’ve done.”

Tony stands up and walks around Bruce, moving toward the wall of windows on the far side of the room. “Come on,” he urges, and Bruce, a little puzzled, follows on his hands and knees, unsure of a setup for beating a sub would even work against all those window. “Jarvis, open drapes fully.”

The dark blue and gray light blocking curtains draw back from the center, pulling to either side, where they bunch up against the wall, but Bruce hardly pays attention to that. It had never occurred to him to wonder what might be behind the curtains other than windows, even though he’s pretty sure, at least in retrospect, that he’d noted that the curtain rods were set out kind of far from the wall. Maybe he only thinks he’d noticed now, because it’s so obvious that they are, and why. 

Tony has a Saint Andrew’s Cross bolted to the floor in front of the wall of windows. There are two metal cables that affix the crosses upper arms to the ceiling. Bruce has no doubt that the setup is sturdy as hell. He tries to imagine being on that cross and looking out those windows, and feels a little dizzy. The cross is set up like most Saint Andrew’s crosses, so that the top is leaning slightly forward. Being on it and looking down must feel a little bit like falling.

“Jarvis, opaque glass,” Tony says, and the glass in the windows becomes frosted, like that glass door at a doctor’s office or another professional office door might be. “Mirror center panes,” Tony says, and the two panes in front of the cross itself are abruptly reflective surfaces, as sharp as any actual mirror that Bruce has ever seen. Heat rolls through his belly and up his spine to the base of his brain, and he shudders a little. The mirror, of course, means that anyone watching from behind can see most of the front of a sub on the cross. The parts that the cross doesn’t actively block, anyway. And this particular cross doesn’t have very wide cross pieces. They are only about as wide as Bruce’s forearm, as though Tony had designed it so that it wouldn’t block the view of most of the body that was bound to it.

“What is it made of?” Bruce asks, and his voice sounds a little rough even to his own ears.

“A titanium alloy. The floor and ceiling are braced with the same metal. It’s lightweight, but virtually indestructible.” Tony is watching Bruce’s face and smiling faintly. “Want to come lay out on it and see how it feels?” Tony offers.

Bruce is terribly tempted. He hasn’t been on a cross in so long that just looking at it makes his guts twist and his hands shake. Even before the accident, he hadn’t been on one anywhere near as often as he had wanted to be. There hadn’t been one available during the first couple of years that Bruce had experimented, and then when he had started going out on his own for what he needed, they were in high demand in any playground he’d visited. Bruce crawls over to the cross and runs his hands across the lower arms of it. The metal is cool and smooth. There are chains and manacles attached both at the top and at the foot. Bruce doesn’t see how to adjust them, but he’s betting they’re fully adjustable in some way that just isn’t obvious.

“Come on up,” Tony invites, his voice low and rolling with compulsion. “It’ll give me a chance to set the chains for you, and to have Jarvis ready to record from the angle I want.”

Bruce stands up, his knees feeling like rubber, and takes the single step necessary to press him against the cross. He spreads his legs automatically, and he raises his arms. Tony reaches up and closes one of the smooth metal manacles dangling from one of the arms around Bruce’s left wrist. The chain is a little loose, letting Bruce’s arm bend just a little. Tony presses something on the other side of the cross with a little click, and the chain pulls up and taut. There must be sensors built into it somewhere to monitor for full extension, because Tony doesn’t press whatever he’d pressed again to make the chain stop moving. Tony circles around and does Bruce’s other wrist, and this time the little click of the button being pressed makes Bruce’s cock jerk between his thighs in helpless, atavistic want. Tony kneels behind Bruce -- Bruce can see him in the mirror -- and fastens the cuffs around his ankles. The chains on the cuffs are already pulled out to the right lengths. There wouldn’t be much call to change the lengths of those chains for differences in heights, since all they are doing are holding the feet spread wide, though not wide enough to strain at Bruce’s ankles or for him to feel like his balance is compromised. 

Tony stands, and runs his hands along the backs of Bruce’s thighs as he does so, all the way up until he hits Bruce’s ass, and then he just pats it gently. Bruce can hear himself breathing in short, harsh breaths.

“Very pretty, Bruce,” Tony says, his voice that same low roll, deep and dark with power. “Is this going to be good enough for a caning?” There’s amusement in his voice, like he already knows the answer, and is just teasing Bruce now. Bruce can see his own face clearly, and his own cock and balls below the center of the X, which crosses in front of his body a little higher than what he’s used to, just above the waist instead of right at the waist. Bruce is guessing the alteration had been deliberate. Tony would want to be able to see everything in the mirror from behind whatever sub he was working over on this thing. Bruce shudders again.

“Is there a waist harness or a belt?” he asks, voice more than just a little rough now. He can feel his subspace slipping gentle, insistent fingers through his mind. “I won’t need it, I can keep my feet, but Steve might need to be held up. There’s no way to know if his knees are going to hold him.”

“There’s a harness that attaches,” Tony says. “It should keep him up.” He closes the few inches of distance between them and presses his warm body against the back of Bruce’s. Tony is still fully clothed, but Bruce can feel the hard length of this cock against his ass. Tony reaches his arms up, running his hands along the length of Bruce’s bare arms, and closes his fingers around his forearms just below the manacles. “How do those manacles feel?” he asks hotly against the back of Bruce’s neck. “I can tighten them.” 

Bruce twists his wrists in the manacles experimentally, but actually they feel just about right, tight enough to keep him still, but not so snug that they’re biting into him anywhere. “They’re good,” Bruce whispers.

“I’m going to make you come, Bruce,” Tony murmurs, breath hot against Bruce’s neck and jaw. “Do you want to be on the cross while I do it?”

Bruce bites back the trembling ‘yes!’ that wants to fall from his lips. He’d like to come on the cross, it’s true, but there is one thing he wants more than he wants that. “Are you going to fuck me?” he asks.

“No,” Tony says, and strokes a hand down Bruce’s side. “You’re too tall for it, really. Just a little, and given a little more time, I can figure out a fix for that, but it’s enough to make it less than ideal as it is. I can tell how much you like the cross, Bruce. I can hear it in your voice and see it in every line of your body. Would you really rather have me fuck you than get you off while you’re spread out and helpless?”

Bruce’s voice is unsteady, but he doesn’t hesitate. “Yes, Tony,” he says.

“I’m flattered,” Tony says, and sounds like he means it. “What if I told you that I’m not going to let you come on the cross while Coulson canes you?”

Bruce swallows past a lump in his throat -- he had suspected as much already after all -- and manages to get out, “I’d still rather come with your cock in me. But I won’t fight you on it, if this is how you want me.”

“Why?” Tony asks, pressing hard against Bruce’s back so that Bruce can feel every inch of Tony’s body pressing him forward against the unforgiving metal of the cross.

“Because,” Bruce gasps out. “Because it’s always better for me if you’re using me, Tony.”

Tony breathes harshly against the side of Bruce’s neck for several long seconds, and then snaps, “Unlock,” and all four of the manacles spring open. Before Bruce is even really aware of his freedom, Tony is dragging him backward, away from the cross, and pushing him down onto his knees, then harder, so Bruce goes down to his hands as well, and then down to his elbows. Lust drags all thoughts of resistance out of Bruce’s mind, not that he would have been likely to resist Tony anyway, but the lust makes it impossible. “Don’t move from right there,” Tony tells him. “Don’t look up, don’t move, stay exactly where I put you, Bruce.”

“Yes, Tony,” Bruce agrees throatily, feeling his skin erupt into goosebumps at the tone of Tony’s voice, even as it also twists deep in his belly, like Tony’s voice has hooks in it that bite into Bruce’s desire and twist and drag at it so that it’s all that Bruce can focus on. 

Tony straightens up and moves away, but Bruce doesn’t look up, keeps his eyes fixed on the floor between his fingers, which are bent and digging into the dense fibers of the carpet, as though to hold him in place. He hears Tony getting undressed, and tries to get his breathing under control, but he can’t quite do it. He wishes for Steve’s ability to take deep breaths and inhale calm, but he’s never had the ability himself. Tony moves further away from Bruce in the room, his footfalls soft on the thick carpet, and then there are other sounds that Bruce can’t really guess at, bumps and clinks and what sounds like a drawer slamming shut. Tony’s footsteps come back toward him, veer away for a few seconds, and then come back. He circles around behind Bruce and drops something on the floor, but Bruce doesn’t move his head to look and see what it is.

“Spread wider,” Tony says, his voice tight and snapping, and Bruce slides his knees as wide apart as he can and still maintain his balance, aware of how it lifts his ass in the air, but willing enough to offer up his ass to Tony; it is what he had asked for, after all. There is a snap of a bottle of lube opening, and then Tony is sliding slick fingers down the crack of Bruce’s ass, just a brief touch, and then gone again, and then back a second later, this time slicker, and Tony slides a finger up against his hole and takes Bruce’s hip in his other hand and thrusts in two fingers at once, a shock and a burn that makes Bruce cry out softly, though it doesn’t really hurt, Tony’s fingers are shoving him full of lube even as they enter him. Bruce’s breath hitches as Tony’s fingertips graze his prostate, but apparently Tony isn’t especially interested in his prostate today, because he pulls them back, all the way out, and then they are back again, slick again, and Tony pushes more lube into Bruce’s ass, so much slick that Bruce can feel it dripping down the back of his balls. Bruce inhales shakily, forces the breath out, and merely let’s Tony do whatever he’s doing, lets him get Bruce so wet that his fingers don’t burn even when he adds a third, and there is no pain at all when Tony starts to stretch him, just slick, wet noises that make Bruce’s face hot with humiliation and send fluttery lust-messages to his brain because of it, like the humiliation always does for him, whether he wants it to or not, it just does it for him. Then Tony’s fingers are gone, and a moment later the head of Tony’s cock bumps up against him, hot and silky soft until he takes both of Bruce’s hips into his hands and shoves hard, one long stroke, and the reason for all the lube is obvious because Tony hadn’t lubed himself at all, and he burns all the way in, tearing helpless gasps out of Bruce that are not quite cries, before he pulls out and slams in again, dragging hotly against the tender skin inside Bruce, feeling enormous as he forces Bruce’s body to take his cock, and every rough, painful stroke makes Bruce shudder and groan. 

“Using you like this, Bruce?” Tony asks, his voice a harsh and ragged demand as he drags Bruce’s body back onto his cock so that Bruce’s knees actually scoot a little backward on the carpet. “Is this how you want to be used?”

“If you, yes, Tony, if it’s what you want,” Bruce manages to stammer out in breaking little fragments of words forced out between groans of pain that does doing nothing at all to deter Bruce’s cock, or the glittering line of pleasure that runs from his spine all the way down to tangle at the small of his back, or the twisting knot of need that roils in the pit of his belly, because Bruce can take the pain, Bruce wants the pain, even, can’t help what he is, can’t stop himself from being set alight by it.

“God, Bruce,” Tony groans, and plunges into him again, rising up on one knee so that he’s almost thrusting straight down into Bruce, sending a shattering blaze of pain through Bruce that makes Bruce cry out in pain and encouragement, he can’t help it, and Tony is muttering, “I can do anything to you, you will take anything, Bruce, I want to do everything to you, until you can’t take it, until I find the thing that makes you beg me to stop, I want to make it so hard for you, Bruce, I want to make every second agony,” and it is almost agony, Tony forcing his cock straight down into Bruce’s body so that he can’t arch up enough to take him easily, it’s all force and the white roll of pain, and Bruce is going to come, every stroke batters at him, drags at him inside, every thrust is like fire, and Bruce isn’t going to be able to stop from coming.

“Tony,” he begs, and it tears free of his throat, half scream, half plea, and then he is babbling, “I’m going to come, I can’t, I can’t stop it if you keep, Tony, I can’t help it,” and Tony shoves into Bruce so hard that words escape him and all he can do is whine, high and helpless and desperate, and then again and again, and Bruce’s back bows in a fierce and painful arc, and his balls clench and twist, and his cock jerks between his thighs, and Bruce tries to hold it back, he tries to be a good boy, but Tony is turning him inside out on his cock and it’s so good that Bruce can’t even see the carpet under him, his vision is all dark bursts and red flashes, and he moans helplessly as he comes, feeling his cock jerking and spitting onto the floor beneath him, and Tony twists a hand into Bruce’s hair and jerks his head back.

Bruce cries out hoarsely, still shaking with orgasm, and Tony rides him mercilessly through it, every thrust seeming to drag Bruce further into the desperate, painful intensity of it, and he stays up only because he was fucking trained to stay up, and Tony told him not to move, and he takes Tony when he is only shuddering in the aftermath of climax, sharp jolts of pain jerking his whole body into shudders, and Tony whispers, “God, Bruce, God, fucking you is like burning alive,” and then Tony is shuddering and spilling into Bruce’s ass, grinding hard into Bruce and shouting aloud in pleasure. Bruce moans, because it’s good to know he’s good for Tony, it’s better than almost anything else, and he doesn’t struggle at all when Tony drags his cock free in one harsh jerk, and then twists Bruce over onto his back, Bruce’s legs trapped pressed up between their bodies.

Tony reaches behind him and grabs something that Bruce can’t identify readily, and then drags it down between their bodies and shoves something hard and unforgiving and totally unlubricated into Bruce’s tender hole. Bruce shouts in surprise and pain, but he doesn’t resist, and Tony’s strong, competent hands wrap around Bruce’s balls and drag them downward and cold metal closes around them, and Tony tucks his cock down and traps it in metal, too, and then draws leather straps around Bruce’s waist and buckles them there, and only then does he snap a lock in place, pinning Bruce within it, not just a cock cage, but a full chastity harness, something that will keep him soft, but which will keep him sore as well, will keep Tony’s come trapped inside Bruce’s ass, and Bruce shudders, and only then does he start to cry. 

Tony draws back on his knees and looks down at the harness around Bruce’s hips, the strap that holds the plug in place feels like it must be huge where it touches the cheeks of Bruce’s ass, and Tony presses his hand against the metal enclosing Bruce’s cock and balls, and Tony’s expression is dazed and heated, dark eyed from orgasm, but still tight with desire at what he has done to Bruce. He pulls Bruce up by his upper arms -- when Bruce’s ass presses into the carpet, presses the plug into his sore and swollen hole even more deeply, Bruce cries out -- first into a sitting position, and then further up, until Bruce scrambles to get his knees under him, and then Tony is kissing him, hands tight and holding around Bruce’s arms as though Bruce might pull away, but it never occurs to Bruce to want to, he leans into the kiss and opens his mouth for Tony to plunder as he likes, still crying a little, but still willing.

“Bruce,” Tony says roughly, and jerks him forward, pulling him into Tony’s chest, one hand moving up to bury itself in Bruce’s tousled hair, and Tony just holds Bruce to him, arms tight and unrelenting, and Bruce feels his cock trying to swell inside the metal of the cage, being held in Tony’s arms enough to rouse him even so soon after he’d come, but after a few minutes it retreats, and Bruce’s weeping retreats as well, and he leans into Tony’s chest and breathes hard into the bend of his neck. “Bruce,” Tony says again, this time a tender little whisper, and Bruce’s hands come up to grasp at Tony’s shoulders for a moment, and then he just strokes his hands along Tony’s skin, his shoulders and his back and the ridges of his ribs, just touching Tony because he wants to touch Tony and Tony is letting him.

“Th-thank you, Tony,” Bruce stammers out, and Tony laughs and squeezes him tight once, and then lets him go. Bruce lets his hands fall away from Tony because he isn’t sure he’s allowed to touch Tony when Tony isn’t touching him. Tony is looking at the chastity harness, the light of arousal still there in his eyes, like he’s just admiring the way it looks on Bruce.

“Where are you sitting, Bruce?” Tony asks, gaze coming back to his face, catching his eyes.

“Zero, Tony,” Bruce says, and doesn’t wipe the tears from his cheeks even though he’s not crying anymore.

“Jesus, Bruce,” Tony whispers, and stands up. “Come here.” Tony walks over to the newly made bed and flings back the comforter and the top sheet. Bruce crawls over to the bed, excruciatingly aware of the plug moving in his sore posterior as he moves, but ignoring it as well as he can. Tony gestures to the bed, and Bruce climbs up to his feet and up onto the bed, rolling over all the way so that Tony has room to get in too, if he’s going to. Tony does, pulling the blankets over both of them, and then rolling to face Bruce, his expression serious. “Are you alright?” he asks.

“I’m great, Tony,” Bruce says honestly, feeling his body relax into the softness of the bed, wanting to roll forward into Tony’s arms, but not sure if he’s allowed.

“How sore is your ass?” Tony asks, expression still serious, almost concerned.

“Very,” Bruce says honestly, feeling a little uneasiness ebb into his subspace. “Wasn’t that the point?”

“Yes,” Tony says. “That was the point. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

Bruce relaxes a little, letting his subspace sweep his mind quiet. “No, I’m not injured. I hurt, but I’m not hurt, Tony. I will tell you if I’m ever hurt.”

“You make me forget to be as careful as I should be,” Tony says, and reaches out to stroke Bruce’s hair away from his face.

“You were amazing,” Bruce says truthfully. “It was amazing, everything you did, everything you said. I… I couldn’t stop from coming, I’m sorry, Tony.”

“I didn’t tell you you couldn’t come,” Tony says, smiling a little. “In fact, I think I told you specifically that I was going to make you come.”

“I… okay,” Bruce says. “I know you make Steve ask. I guess I assumed.”

“Steve needs to ask because Steve needs to not be in charge. There is no question about who is in charge between you and I, Bruce. If I want you to ask, I’ll tell you you have to. If I want you not to come, I’ll tell you not to. And you’ll do as I say.”

“Yes,” Bruce agrees. “And if I come dry during the caning with this thing on?” Bruce asks, because he’s never worn a full chastity harness before and he doesn’t know what it will do to him or for him during a caning.

“Then I will enjoy watching you do it,” Tony says, and reaches for Bruce. Bruce couldn’t be happier to move into Tony’s arms. “I’m pretty sure everyone present would enjoy watching you do it. Have you ever done it before in a harness?”

“I’ve never worn a harness before,” Bruce says. “Just a cock cage, or other cock and ball type bondage, but never a full harness. I’m not sure if it will stop me or not.”

“We’ll find out in about half an hour,” Tony says. “This is your last chance to object if you don’t want an audience, Bruce.”

Bruce smiles. “Tony, I’m deep enough in subspace that I can’t really care about whether or not I have an audience right now. If you were going to give me another out, you should have done it before you fucked me raw and shoved a plug into my ass.”

Tony laughs. “I’ll remember for next time,” Tony says, and then snorts a little with laughter. “So eloquent, Doctor Banner,” he says, sounding amused.

Bruce flushes a little, but burrows in a little closer to Tony, who just lets Bruce move in as close as he can get and then slings both arms around him. Bruce’s mind drifts a little, pleasantly unmoored from anything that’s going to be happening in the future, all the way focused on the present, with Tony’s arms around him, his hands occasionally stroking along Bruce’s skin. Tony presses his lips to Bruce’s brow briefly, then murmurs, “Steve may not be in any shape to get fucked after he’s caned. You’re aware, right?”

“Yes,” Bruce says. “I can wait if he needs immediate aftercare. Honestly, I can wait as long as it takes. I want it, Tony, a lot, but I don’t _need_ it. Having you is enough.”

“Tell me something, are you going to enjoy watching Steve get caned? Will you get off on it? Some subs are weird about watching other subs they’re close to taking any kind of serious pain.” Tony sounds mostly idly curious, and Bruce has to take a moment to figure out how to phrase his answer.

“I’ll enjoy it as long as he’s enjoying it,” Bruce says finally. “I’ll be nervous for him at first, when he still isn’t sure he’s going to be able to take it, but once he’s settled, it will be good to watch. Steve is gorgeous, and he’ll look gorgeous marked up. Besides that, I’m going to be so deeply into my own subspace that it would take something really bad to jerk me out of it, and I don’t think that’s going to happen.” He tries to think clearly for a few long seconds, and then says, “You may have to take his cock in hand to get him through it, the first part of it, I mean, the hard part. But you’ll know if you have to. You’re careful and observant and intuitive. Just watch him. You’ll know what to do.”

Tony says. “Touching him is something I’ll want to talk to Coulson about ahead of time. I don’t want to step on his toes. I don’t anticipate it being a problem, but I want Coulson to get as much out of this as he can, too.”

“Coulson will be fine,” Bruce says, easily, certain of it. “He’ll want to get Steve through this with the least amount of fear for Steve as possible. He’ll agree to anything you want to do to make it easier and better for Steve. For me, the pain is enough. More than enough. Steve may need some pleasure to offset it, at least until he lets it take him over.”

“You seem so sure that it’s going to take him over,” Tony says. “I wish I was as sure.”

“I’m not a dominant, but I recognize other submissives, and can guess at what they want and can take fairly accurately, Tony. Not only because I am a submissive, but just because I’m a genius, and observant. If you weren’t so scared _for_ Steve, you’d be less worried about him.” Bruce nuzzles his lips up against Tony’s jaw and kisses him there, where he smells good, like soap from the shower still, but also like the clean sweat of exertion. “I don’t think you’ll have to interfere much. I don’t think you’ll have to talk him through it, for example. Just maybe some reassuring touching and a little pleasure so that he knows he can feel it alongside the pain. That’s what he really wants. Proof that the pain can lift him up the way that pleasure can, and he wants it to work. That is half the fight already won. That he wants to respond.”

There is a soft knock at the bedroom door.

“Who is it, Jarvis,” Tony asks.

“It is Agent Coulson, sir,” Jarvis says.

“Let him in,” Tony says, and squeezed Bruce tight for a long moment. The door swings inward and Coulson comes in.

“I made sandwiches and soup for lunch,” he says. “It ready whenever you two are.”

“We’re ready,” Tony says, and throws back the comforter. Bruce shivers a little at the sudden cool air, but settles reasonably quickly. Coulson looks at him in the harness, and Bruce feels a slow blush come up on his cheeks.

“Very nice,” is all Coulson says, though, and even that is enough to make Bruce shiver.

Tony is grinning at him when Coulson moves out of the doorway and back into the main area of the penthouse. “I told you he was something,” Tony says, and Bruce nods mutely, and follows Tony out of bed, though Tony stops him from going to his knees once Bruce’s feet are on the floor. “Unless you want to, you don’t have to go to your knees in front of any of them,” Tony says. “If you want to, that’s fine, but if you don’t, that’s fine, too. Whatever you’re most comfortable with, Bruce.”

Bruce nods, and waits while Tony dresses quickly, though he doesn’t bother to put anything on himself. Only his yoga pants might be loose enough to comfortably go on over the harness, and they won’t hide that the harness is there, and he’s comfortably ensconced in his subspace, so he just doesn’t bother. They’re all going to see a lot more than him in a harness soon enough.

When Tony heads toward the bedroom door, Bruce follows him, and Tony catches his hand and squeezes it, and then plants a gentle kiss on his mouth before they leave the bedroom.

The team is sitting around the bar, all of them eating without paying much attention to what they are eating. Coulson has placed a tall glass of water in front of Steve, and there’s another at the other end of the table that Bruce guesses is for him. He doesn’t sit in the tall chair that is in front of the glass of water at the bar. He pulls it out and drags it back out of the way, aware of everyone looking at him, but not quite looking back, just yet. He merely stands in the space the chair has vacated, and the bar is still tall enough to hit him above the waist. Coulson places a bowl of soup and half a turkey sandwich in front of him, and Bruce eats because it’s the smart thing to do, and he’s going to need to keep up his energy. He barely tastes what he’s eating, but is concentrating on the feel of Tony sitting beside him, also eating silently, but with one hand resting lightly on the small of Bruce’s back, making his skin prickle alertly. He drinks his water, because he knows how important it is to stay hydrated for any kind of serious beating, and isn’t surprise when Coulson fills his glass again as soon as it’s empty.

It’s Thor who asks, “Are you certain our presence will not cause you discomfort, Bruce?”

Bruce looks up, a little surprised at it being Thor who asks, but smiles warmly at all three of them, who are picking at their food and watching Bruce carefully. “I”m sure,” he says. “You wouldn’t ever presume based on anything you see, and I’m already far enough into good headspace that you guys being there won’t make me nervous. I assume Steve has told you the same thing?”

“He has,” Natasha says, throwing a glance at Steve, who is still calmly eating his soup. “We’ve all played with Steve before, but this is a little different. We just don’t want to be a problem for either of you. We’d rather not be invited than make it harder for either of you.”

“I’m still sure,” Bruce says. “I want you to have this, to see this, and be a part of it. I want it for me, so that I can get to a place where having any of you touch me feels steady to me. It was my idea. No one is forcing me. No one even suggested it. I brought it up.”

Natasha gives him a warm smile. “I’m not going to pretend I’m not glad,” she says. “Tell us what it’s okay to do once we’re in there?”

Bruce looks at Tony.

“No one touches him during except me or Coulson. After, no one touches him unless he invites you to. No one touches Steve at all after. We don’t know yet how he’s going to respond, so you’ll leave him to us for whatever amount of aftercare he requires.” Tony glances at Coulson, and Coulson nods his agreement. “Drink your water, Bruce,” Tony says, and Bruce drinks his water.

Halfway through his glass, Steve glances up and meets his eyes from across the table, and Bruce can see the thin tendrils of fear drawing Steve up tight and into himself, for all of his outward show of calm. He wants to remind Steve that no one is going to hit him if he decides that he doesn’t want to be hit, and that he can decide that at any time, but he already knows it won’t do any good. In spite of the fear, Steve’s eyes are already swimmy with subspace, not a lot, but enough that Steve almost surely won’t back out. Bruce is right, he wants to do it, wants it to work for him, and he won’t let his fear of it stop him. Bruce is as sure as he can be that Steve will do well on the cross once he gives himself over to the degree of pain that Coulson is going to be inflicting on him, and he tries to make his confidence show on his face, in his eyes. Some of the tightness recedes from Steve’s shoulders, and he gives Bruce an unsteady smile. Bruce smiles back, putting encouragement and enough of his own anticipation in his eyes that Steve blinks a little, and his smile steadies up.

Bruce is pleased enough with that accomplishment that he feels his subspace crowding back in, sweeping away his concerns, and is comfortable enough to let it. He’ll be going first anyway. If Steve sees anything that truly scares him, he’ll be able to cry off.

“I’m going to arrange some seating in my bedroom,” Tony tells Bruce, his hand roving down to cup one cheek of his ass, and then back up again to press at the small of his back. “You okay on your own out here for a minute or two?”

“Yes, Tony,” Bruce says easily, and Tony leans in and swipes his lips across Bruce’s cheekbone, and then disappears back into the bedroom.

“He decided not to let you come for a caning, I take it,” Coulson says, abruptly standing nearby, but not actually in Bruce’s space. Close enough to measure the harness with his gaze, but not close enough to touch it.

“I may still come dry, I’m not sure,” Bruce says. “I’ve never been in a full chastity harness before. But I think he wants to make sure I’m ready to fuck Steve after, in case Steve is ready directly after. He didn’t say that, exactly, but that’s my guess.”

Clint leans back in his chair and runs his eyes over the leather and metal of the harness. “Honestly, he hardly needs a reason,” he says almost gently. “It looks fantastic on you, and that’s reason enough.”

“Thank you,” Bruce says, blushing, but pleased, even when Natasha and Thor both stand to come around the bar to look at the harness. He lets them take a good look, then turns so that they can see the back as well.

“Clint isn’t wrong,” Natasha says, and sounds kind of flatteringly breathless. Bruce’s gaze goes to her automatically at the sound of her voice, and she laughs a little, and reaches out as though she’ll touch his face for a second, before pulling her hand back. Bruce steps forward closer to her, and lightly encircles her wrist with one hand and raises it back up, making the invitation plain, and she cups his jaw and runs her thumb along the line of it. “I think almost anyone here would do just about anything to get our hands on you wearing that thing,” she says, still sounding a little breathless. Bruces blush darkens a little, but he is pleased and can’t hide it. Doesn’t even try to hide it.

“Thank you, Natasha,” he says, and she cups his cheek again and leans toward him slowly enough that he could back away. When he doesn’t, she drops a soft kiss onto his lips, and draws back, her eyes bright with desire. Bruce says, without meaning to, “I’ve been with women, but I’ve never had a woman dominant. I don’t even know what it would entail.” He hadn’t meant to say it, but he isn’t sorry that he has when he sees her face go tight and hungry at his words.

“I hope sometime you’ll let me show you, Bruce,” she says softly, and draws her hand away from his face. “Finish your water, so Tony doesn’t think we’ve been out here distracting you from what he told you to do.”

Bruce smiles a little, but picks up his water glass, and he’s aware that Clint, Natasha and Thor don’t sit back down, but stay standing in a bunch where they can see Bruce clearly, but it doesn’t bother him. Being on display for them is easy, easier than he would have expected even in good headspace, and he feels a warm rush of hope flood through his chest and then drop down lower, into the pit of his stomach, so that his cock starts to get hard in the cage and is unable to do so. He leans against the bar a little, closing his eyes and trying to settle his body down, but he doesn’t manage it before Tony comes back out.

“What’s up, Bruce,” Tony asks, careful, easy. If he has a problem with the rest of the team surrounding Bruce, he doesn’t mention it.

“Just, the cage,” Bruce murmurs, and tries to take deep breaths. “I can’t stop myself from trying to get hard in it and it’s… I don’t know. It’s distracting. It’s very… distracting.”

Tony laughs a little and puts his hand on the small of Bruce’s back again. “It’s supposed to be,” he says in a soft, low voice that is a little hard even as quiet as it is. “Imagine how it will be while Coulson canes you with it on. I imagine it will be a lot more than distracting. I think it will drive you a little bit out of your mind. I’m looking forward to it, honestly.”

Thor chuckles, a deep rumble, and Clint says, “Wow, you are much meaner than you ever let on with me.” He sounds admiring when he says it.

“You and I never had an in depth conversation about your boundaries,” Tony says. “At some point, when Bruce is up to sharing, if you want to have that kind of conversation with me, we can bring it up at a later date.”

“Yeah,” Clint says. “I mean, obviously if Bruce is okay with it, but you definitely have the potential to be a lot harder than you ever were with me, and I’m at least a little interested in finding out how far that goes.”

“Another time,” Tony says firmly, and Bruce finally feels like he can open his eyes again, and he sees Clint’s eyes faintly swimming with subspace too, and is a little amused at seeing it. He must really be a pretty flexible switch if he can go from admiring Bruce in the chastity harness like a top might to asking Tony for a harder encore performance. He wonders what it might be like to be in bed with Tony and Clint, and the idea makes his shiver lightly.

Coulson has moved over to stand next to Steve. “Are you full?” Coulson asks him.

“No, not really,” Steve says. “But I’m not exactly hungry anymore either. I don’t need any more food.”

“Did you drink all the water?” Coulson asks.

“Yes,” Steve tells him, looking at Coulson with those bright, lucid eyes. 

“You know we’re going to have you go after Bruce,” Coulson half-asks, half-tells him, and Steve nods. “Part of that is so that you can see what it will be like, and you’ll have the chance to decide you don’t want to start with something this… encompassing. Your limits are not going to be the same as Bruce’s. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Yes. I know I’m different from Bruce. But unless something big changes between now and the time that it’s my turn, I don’t think I’ll change my mind,” Steve says. He sounds afraid, he isn’t even trying to hide that he’s afraid, but he also sounds fairly confident.

“Okay,” Coulson says, and pushes a lock of hair off of his brow, and then dips down to kiss him. “Let’s go into the bedroom and get everyone settled.”

“Bruce,” Tony says, and Bruce let’s Tony’s hand guide him around so that he’s facing the bedroom and continues to let it urge him forward until he is inside. He’s extremely aware of the plug inside him, and he hesitates at the knee line, but then can’t quite bring himself to cross it on his feet. He goes down, and Tony runs a hand through his hair lightly, as though pleased. “Come over to the cross,” Tony says, and Bruce follows Tony on his hands and knees, though he goes a little slowly to see what Tony has done about seating. He’s moved the small couch and single chair out from the little nook they normally live in and arranged them both facing the cross, about eight feet back, so plenty close enough to see everything. He goes around the little grouping of furniture, and stops on his knees in front of the cross. He looks back over his shoulder, and watches Clint and Natasha settle on the small sofa, and Thor settle himself into the chair, which hadn’t looked all that small to Bruce without Thor in it, but now seems kind of tiny. Coulson and Steve are just entering the room, and Steve’s gaze darts to Bruce and then down at the knee line, and he hesitates, but goes down to his knees.

“Do you want to be dressed while I cane Bruce, or naked, Steve?” Coulson asks.

Steve blinks, like the question had never occurred to him, but he says, “Naked,” almost at once, and then blinks a little, as if in surprise.

“Good,” Coulson says, and bends down to catch the bottom of Steve’s t-shirt and pull it up over his head. Steve lets him, arms going up when appropriate. “On your feet for just a second,” Coulson encourages him, and Steve stands up, and Coulson unbuttons and unzips his jeans and shoves both jeans and underwear down his legs, and then sinks down onto the floor to help Steve step out of the tangle of them. Steve sinks back down to his knees almost immediately, and Coulson stands up with Steve’s clothes draped over one arm, folds them with quick confidence, and sets them on the end of Tony’s bed. “Okay, you can sit wherever you want while I take care of Bruce, Steve. Wherever you can see best from, or wherever comforts you the most. I’m sure Clint and Natasha would make room for you on the couch.”

Steve crawls over and settles a little in front of the couch, stretching his neck up almost absently as Natasha runs her fingers lightly through his hair. His gaze is fixed on the cross, and his cock is already hard, his breathing a little bit unsteady. “I didn’t know that was there,” he says, looking at Tony.

“There was never any need to show you,” Tony says. “You weren’t ready to do anything on the cross before.”

“I know you don’t like being tied down, Steve,” Coulson says, “but I wish you’d consider it while we do this. It’s easier for both of us if I don’t have to worry about you jerking against the cane and losing your balance.”

“No, I…” Steve pauses and swallows. “I knew I would be tied down for this, Bruce told me that you would want to. I’m scared, but I’m okay.” His voice is trembling a little, and Natasha runs her hand through his hair again. There is something very sweet about how easily Steve admits to his fear, something almost a little moving about it. That he doesn’t try to hide it from any of them, that he’s so open with his feelings. Bruce envies it a little, or maybe he would if it were anyone but Steve, but he’s so tender of Steve that he doesn’t really have it in him for any real high grade envy.

“Good, Steve,” Coulson says. “No one is going to do anything to you that you don’t agree to at any time. If what you see is too much, we won’t do that. If you want something, still, but something lesser, I can still put you on the cross and work you over with something a little less brutal. Tony has everything in here I could possibly want to work with. If you don’t want to be on the cross at all, we can work around that, too. You get to make all the decisions this time. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Steve says softly. “I understand.”

“Okay. I’m going to get Bruce started then. You can ask questions any time you feel like you need to, to whomever you need to ask them, even of Bruce, if you need to, okay?” Steve nods. Coulson unbuttons his shirt cuffs and then buttons down the front of his shirt methodically. He strips it off, and is wearing a white sleeveless undershirt beneath it. He circles around to lay it across the foot of the bed and drapes it over Steve’s clothes. Then he draws a long wooden box down from on top of the chest of drawers, and brings it over to Tony. He actually goes down to his knees by Bruce, gesturing Tony down, too, which seems to surprise Tony, but he kneels at once. “This one I bought for you. You get to keep it when I’m done using it today. It’s a fourteen inch rattan cane, six millimeters wide, and I’ll teach you how to take care of it between uses later.” He opens the box and shows both Bruce and Tony the cane. “It’s got a grooved bone handle, and was handmade at extremely short notice by the best man that makes canes in the city. If you were going to get anything better, you’d have to either go to the other coast, or overseas to get it. The handle should be a good size for your hand. Take it out, see how it feels in your hand,” Coulson instructs Tony. 

Tony does, moving a little gingerly. The handle fits his hand perfectly, which means it might be a little on the short side for Coulson’s hands, but Bruce is not worried. Tony studies the cane in his hand for several long moment, then slides to his feet and swings it experimentally. Bruce shudders at the sound of the wood slicing the air, and Coulson rests a hand on his shoulder. Bruce leans into it without much in the way of thought, and is only surprised by it after Coulson takes the cane back from Tony, and isn’t touching Bruce at all anymore.

“Mostly, the same rules apply to caning as apply to cropping, except you can cut with significantly less force with a cane. You have to be in precise control of it all the time. It’s extremely easy to draw blood with a cane. I wouldn’t recommend you use it on his front at all until you’re very comfortable with using it on his back, and I’ll be happy to help you or monitor you with it as often as you feel like you need help, no notice required. You won’t learn everything there is to know about caning someone from this one single lesson. It’s too delicate an art form. But I can teach you enough to make sure you aren’t going to be dangerous with it, and we can work on your form later.” He looks at Bruce. “Do you want to touch it, Bruce?” he asks.

Bruce does, and lifts a hand and runs his fingertips along the long, smooth, hard length of it from handle to tip, and shivers a little at the way it looks so harmless, so deceptively almost decorative. He draws his hand back, and Coulson nods, and climbs to his feet. Tony gets to his feet as well. “You strike with the middle of the instrument,” Coulson says. “It will give you the most force, and the most sting. Stand up, Bruce,” Coulson says, and Bruce gets to his feet, his breath rushing out of him unsteadily while his cock tries to get hard again inside the cage. He closes his eyes, a little dizzy with fear and anticipation, and Tony’s hand touches the middle of his back, steadying him. “Do you want to put him on the cross, or shall I?” Coulson asks, tone mostly neutral.

Tony says, “I’m willing to let you do all of it that you want to do, this time.”

“Then hold this for me,” he says, and passes the cane to Tony. He turns to Bruce, his expression dark and swimming with avariciousness. “Step up, Bruce,” he says, and Bruce steps into the cross facing it, and raises his arms without having to be told. Coulson is slow with the manacles, almost caressing as he closes them first around his left wrist and left ankle, and then circles to do his right wrist and right ankle. “Do you need a belt to stay up?” Coulson asks him.

“No, sir. I can keep my feet,” Bruce says with certainty.

“Do you have any scarring or nerve or muscle damage I should know about?” Coulson asks.

“No, but,” Bruce says carefully. “But my blood is toxic, Coulson. I don’t know how hard you intend to be on me, but you should know. A little bit on your skin, or even in your mouth won’t hurt you, but in large doses, it’s toxic.”

“I hadn’t planned on bloodying you, but that’s good to know,” Coulson says.

Bruce hesitates, and then asks, “You think you can stop from skin popping me?” because he’s curious if Coulson is really that good.

“What is skin popping?” Tony asks.

“It’s when you strike hard enough to bring blood beading to the skin, but not hard enough to actually cut,” Coulson says. “And I’m sure I can keep from doing it. I am very, very good at this, Bruce. I won’t draw any blood I don’t mean to draw. That said, if you want me to draw blood, now is the time to tell me.”

Bruce chews on his lip and sort of feels Tony looking at the side of his face, can almost see the surprise on his face in his peripheral vision. Bruce has been caned bloody before, but it’s been a long time. Not to mention that every time he’s been caned, he’s been at least skin popped. It won’t push him too hard to let Coulson do it, if he wants to. But he’s almost as curious to find out if Coulson is really good enough to do him without drawing blood of any kind. He finally says, “I might sometime want you to really give it to me, sir, at least enough to show Tony how, but if you can do it without bloodying me, I think that’s best.” Not to mention that he doesn’t want to scare Steve any more than he already is.

“I’ll definitely plan on a second demonstration for your dominant for some time in the future to teach him how to let blood without damaging you. This time, I’m just as glad that you’re going to skip it. I want to prove to Tony that it can be done, so that when he decides to do it, he knows it’s possible. It will make him better at it when he decides to do it on his own.”

“Yes, sir,” Bruce agrees. He rolls his shoulders a little to loosen them, and takes a deep breath.

“Are you ready, Bruce?” Coulson asks. 

“Yes,” Bruce says, and feels his stupid cock trying to get hard again. His heart is hammering in his chest, and his skin is buzzing with anticipation, his breath already coming in hitches in his throat.

“Tony?” Coulson asks.

Tony stands to one side of the cross and rests his hand lightly against Bruce’s chest. “He needs to be able to see me or feel me touching him all or most of the time,” Tony says. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“No. I’ll tell you if and when I need you to move,” Coulson says. His voice has gone low and sharp-edged.

“Then go ahead. I trust you’ll talk me through it,” Tony says.

“I’ve already given you most of the salient points,” Coulson says. “Just watch, and keep an eye on what I avoid hitting, and stop me if you have questions.”

“Okay, then,” Tony says, and strokes his hand down Bruce’s chest.

Coulson spreads a hand along Bruce’s back, starting at the top, stroking slowly across his shoulders, taking his time, but not going particularly slowly, as though willing to take Bruce mostly at his word that he doesn’t have any muscle or nerve issues that might cause problems. He can see for himself that Bruce doesn’t have scars. He runs his hand down the length of Bruce’s spine, then explores his back to either side of his spine with the ball of his thumb. He trails the hand down to the top of Bruce’s ass, fingers searching for and finding the bump of his tailbone, likely just noting its location so he know what he’s going to be hitting with every stroke. He runs his hands across both cheeks of Bruce’s ass, and Bruce starts to shiver lightly, his mouth going a little dry. He pauses at the strap of the harness that runs up between his buttocks, pressing a little at the place where the plug is inserted, probably checking to make sure it doesn’t protrude enough to hamper his swing or potentially damage the cane. He goes all the way down to the backs of Bruce’s thighs, and Bruce starts to shiver a little harder. The backs of the thighs hurt a lot. It’s been a long time, but he remembers that.

“Are you recording, Tony?” Steve asks, kind of out of nowhere.

Tony says, “Shit, thank you, Steve. Jarvis, begin recording.”

Natasha laughs, low and amused, and Tony leans back a little to look Bruce in the face to shake his head and roll his eyes apologetically at him. Bruce smiles faintly. He can’t be worried about it now. He had already been solidly in his subspace, and the careful working over Coulson had just gone through had been enough to press him down even further into it. He’s breathing heavily, almost panting.

“Bruce?” Coulson says.

“Yes, sir?” Bruce asks, hearing his own fear and desire spill out in his tone.

“Be as quiet for me as you can be. I won’t punish you for anything, but I want to work for your responses.” Coulson’s tone is cool and powerful.

“Yes, sir,” Bruce agrees, and takes a deep breath and prepares himself to be as quiet as he can manage to be. 

He senses Coulson taking a step back, and can’t quite keep from holding his breath. He hears the cane slicing through the air only a moment before it slices across the top of his back, and his breath leaves him in a soundless rush as he feels the pain of it, deep and sharp and stinging at once. His cock jerks helplessly in the cage and his whole body tightens, including his tender ass around the plug, but he stays more or less silent, and forces his muscles to relax again as quickly as he can.

“Good, Bruce,” Coulson says, smooth and silky and dangerous, and swings again, the cane impacting barely lower than the first strike, less than an inch, and Bruce huffs out a harsh breath, eyes starting to water already, and wonders if Coulson is going to keep the welts he knows are already forming that close together, or if he’ll widen them further down, and maybe lay some of them at an angle. He doesn’t have time to think of it more because the cane slices at his back again, below the other two, harder than the first two, as though Coulson is loosening his arm and getting a feel for what Bruce can take, and the welt feels almost deep enough to cut, the pain of the cane is always a little cutting, even if you don’t actually break the skin. Bruce tightens again, helpless to stop it through the white wave of pain, but manages to force himself loose again almost at once. When he is more used to it, when it really gets going, he won’t have to keep forcing his muscles to relax after every blow. Once Coulson gets going, there won’t be time to tighten, or even the need to, Bruce knows. He sucks in a harsh breath, and Coulson slices the cane across his upper back again, a little lower, and tears spill down Bruce’s cheeks, and he hears himself moan softly. Coulson’s hand is suddenly stroking across the welts firmly, and Bruce shudders and arches his back helplessly, biting down on his lip to keep from moaning at the feel of Coulson touching him where he had hurt him. It’s good enough to make his vision swim and his cock try to harden again in the cage, and Bruce’s balls are already tight with want trapped inside the metal of the cage.

“You’re doing great, Bruce,” Coulson tells him, voice just a little ragged. “I’m nowhere close to done.”

“Yes, sir,” Bruce breathes out, and then Coulson is swinging again, just an instant of warning before the blow lands lower across his back, white-sharp pain, and the feel of the blow pulling at his skin, dragging a little at all the other welts, and Bruce is good, he’s quiet, and Coulson cracks the cane across his back again, this time hard enough that a choked cry escapes Bruce, quickly bitten off, but he has never been able to be totally silent, he had told Coulson that from the beginning, and he doesn’t have time to feel guilty about it because another blow lands a second later, this one laid down diagonally, so that the cane slices across the lines of the welts already there, and Bruce goes to his toes in shock at the pain, the immense sting almost nothing compared to the cutting force of it, and when he forces himself flat-footed he’s breathing so hard that it sounds a little like he’s dying, he feels a little like he’s dying in the best possible way, and Coulson doesn’t pause to let him settle this time, and he seems to have found the force that he likes, because the next blow is just as hard, though it doesn’t cross any of the other welts, but the pain radiates out from the impact site, pulling at the rest of Bruce’s back, and his cock is desperate to get hard now and his balls are aching with the desire to come, and then the cane smacks down in the middle of his back, and Bruce’s breath leaves him in a soft, hoarse groan and he wraps his hands around the chains above the manacles just for the feel of something to hold onto while he shudders under Coulson’s cane and tries to be quiet while his body is winding up and up; his head falls back, it’s too hard to hold it up, and the cane crashes into his back again, and Bruce jerks in the chains and it pulls at every line of fiery pain that Coulson has laid down so far, and need is twisting between the cradle of his hipbones, desperate and unbelievably powerful, and he’s almost sure that he’s going to be able to come dry in the harness, and another blow sends that need spiraling up the line of his spine, and he is sure of it, and the next sends spasms of want through his arms and legs so hard that he can hear the chains rattling a little against the top of the crossbars of the cross, and then Coulson slices the cane across his back at an angle again, so that the welt blooms atop the welts that are already there, and Bruce is groaning through teeth clenched tightly shut, his hips rocking helplessly forward as his back bows, and then it all forces its way into his groin and he feels his cock jerking helplessly in the cage, filling it as much as the cage will let it grow, but it doesn’t stop him, he couldn’t stop it even if he had wanted to, and he feels himself come, not dry, but just soft, so that come dribbles out of the slit of his cock and strikes his upper thigh without his cock ever going hard at all, his balls twisting as they force their load out of his body, and then Coulson’s hand are on his back, sliding up across the welts, and it only drives Bruce higher, only forces him further into it, and he can’t keep from crying out as he shakes under Coulson’s stroking hands, and then it finally starts to retreat, leaving him shuddering and panting and pressing himself helplessly back against Coulson’s palms for nothing but the hot and helpless wash of pain of it.

Eventually he sags forward a little against the cross, gasping for breath, and he feels fingers sliding through the wetness on his thigh. He thinks to apologize, but he isn’t sure if he needs to; he hadn’t known, and he’s not sure if he could have stopped it if he’d tried. He pries open his eyes, and watches with a kind of dumb and staggered amazement as Coulson slides his wet fingers into his mouth, his eyes on Bruce absolutely smoldering, his face set into brutal lines, and he doesn’t do anything when Coulson leans in to kiss him except tip his head back and let it happen, Coulson’s mouth tasting of Bruce’s come and ravenous against Bruce’s mouth, the kiss so hot while Bruce is so helpless that he whines into it, and isn’t ready when it ends, so that his whine falls into the empty air for several seconds after Coulson has pulled away.

He glances over helplessly at Tony, and Tony is looking back at him, shock and arousal writ large across his face, and Bruce sees that he’s holding the cane for just a moment, before Coulson’s long-fingered hand closes around the handle of it and takes it back. There is a whisper of air currents moving around him that lets him know that Coulson is at his back again, and he isn’t ready when the cane crashes against the hot skin of his back, lower than any of the other blows, but hard enough that it knocks a cry out of Bruce’s throat. Bruce snaps his mouth closed, still looking at Tony, who is still looking back, and then the cane snaps across his back again, and Bruce grinds his teeth and holds back the sounds that want to escape him, and even as he’s doing it he can feel that twisting urgency beginning to build again in his lower belly, and he understands if it goes on long enough, he will be helpless to stop it, that he probably wouldn’t stop it even if he could, and then Coulson is snapping the cane across his back in quick, hard slices and Bruce’s eyes snap closed and his head rocks forward, and he just takes it, his body not fighting to tense anymore, but open to the pain completely, absorbing it and eager for more.

Coulson skips down several inches, avoiding, Bruce understands, his kidneys, but he’s still not prepared when the cane snaps across both cheeks of his ass, and he snarls out a helpless sound of pain, his hands going even tighter around the chains, his cock jerking again in its metal prison, and Coulson is only crueler across his ass, the blows faster and harder, bright and sharp, Bruce imagines he can envision every welt as it appears on his skin, but it’s good, too, better than his back because it can be harder, fiercer, and Coulson slices the cane diagonally across welts he’s already lain several times, Bruce doesn’t try to keep track, doesn’t try to do anything but keep quiet, which he is only half-successful at, little, harsh cries sometimes escaping along with his gasping breath, and the beating is one of the most magnificent and brutal that Bruce has ever been gifted with, the pain is euphoric, his whole mind white and his whole body ablaze with it, and the grinding pulse of pleasure between his hipbones builds again, tangles like razorblades in his groin and jolts up his spine with every blow, but Coulson is running out of skin, and Bruce thinks he might be able to hold out.

Then Coulson’s hand splays wide across his lower back, across the area that he had not hit Bruce for fear of damaging his kidneys, and he presses Bruce forward into the cross and the crop bites into the backs of his thighs, high up, just beneath the curve of his ass, and Bruce can’t keep back a little shriek of pain even as his balls clench hard and he feels the gathering pulse of impending orgasm radiating out from his groin. Coulson does it again and again, and Bruce cries out a little at each blow, unable to help it, he had known his thighs would be worse, he had remembered, but not how much worse, and then Coulson is working on just his left thigh, working his way down with quick, vicious slices of the cane to just above the bend of the knee, and Bruce is weeping hoarsely and shatteringly, and Coulson starts up the back of Bruce’s right thigh, starting above the bend of the knee and moving up this time, just as quick and vicious, and then it stops, it all stops at once and Bruce is trembling on the edge of another orgasm, is so close to it he can feel it like the taste of fire on the back of his tongue, and he gasps in a breath, and when it comes out he is speaking without meaning to, without feeling he even has a choice, voice rough and begging, “Not yet, not yet, please, I need, Phil, don’t stop yet,” and everything is very still behind him, Coulson’s hand still holding at the small of Bruce’s back, and then he hears Coulson inhale sharply and drag his hand up Bruce spine hard, so that Bruce arches and whines, and then the cane slices across his ass again, all the blows laid atop the welts that are already there, and Bruce groans and twists against the cross and against the hard press of Coulson’s hand between his shoulderblades, and the cane doesn’t stop and finally Bruce feels himself spasm and tumble over the edge again, dripping come down the front of his upper thigh, his balls clenching so hard they feel almost bruised, and Coulson’s hands are on him again, cupping the cheeks of his ass and dragging his fingertips across that aching flesh, and Bruce can feel the tug of the plug inside him and it only makes it better, only drives him higher until he is wailing out a helpless sound that feels light and bright, as bright as the touch of Coulson’s hands on his tender skin, and Coulson leans forward and presses up against the entire back of Bruce’s body, his clothes dragging painfully at the welts, but it’s also good, Bruce shudders through his climax with his mind absolutely blank and his body awash with pain, and then he is panting for breath and Coulson is pulling away, and Bruce is crying again a little in the aftermath, not from pain, though he does hurt, but from a kind of fearful gratitude, fearful because he understands that the only sane response to Coulson is to be cautiously afraid, but grateful, too, so loose and so helpless and so, so grateful, because he doesn’t know if he will ever get anything that is that close to too much without crossing over ever again, and the experience deserves some gratitude.

He isn’t sure how long they let him just lie across the cross and weep. It feels like a long time, but time is a relative thing, Bruce understands; he knows that the beating had probably taken only a relatively short amount of time, but it seems like it had been going on for practically ever.

“Can you stand, Bruce?” Coulson murmurs, and Bruce becomes aware that Coulson is still standing behind him, but that he is no longer pressed against him, and that Coulson’s hands are smoothing along the skin of his arms, stroking in long, soothing motions. 

Bruce opens his eyes, and Tony is standing half in front of him, between the cross and the windows, still looking a little shocked around the eyes, still looking aroused, but now his face bending a little toward concern. He’s holding the cane in one hand, and is stroking Bruce’s cheek with the backs of the fingers of the other. Tony looks relieved to see Bruce looking at him, and he smiles, turning his hand over so that it’s cupping Bruce’s cheek, wiping away tears with one thumb. “There you are,” he says, quiet and happy and warm, and Bruce presses his cheek hard into Tony’s hand. He wants to bury his whole face against Tony’s body, wants to fold down to his knees and press his face into Tony’s thighs and just stay there, just feeling Tony close and smelling him. “Can you stand, Bruce?” Tony asks.

Bruce shifts on his feet and straightens his body so that he’s not leaning against the cross anymore. Every motion pulls at the dozens of welts from his back to his thighs, and it hurts, but he isn’t unsteady on his feet. “I can stand,” he says finally, and is almost totally sure he really can.

“Unlock,” Tony says, and all four of the manacles spring open. Bruce takes a careful step back from the cross, and brushes against the front of Coulson, who is still standing behind him, apparently. Coulson raises a hand to Tony and gestures with two fingers for him to come over to him, and a moment later Bruce is standing between the two of them, both of them very close. 

Coulson says, almost soundlessly, “The experiment is no longer going to be a valid means of showing the rates at which they heal. There is no way I can give Steve a caning like that.” Coulson rests a gentle hand on one of Bruce’s shoulders. “I have never given anyone a caning like that. I still want to do it if he wants to, but I think it’s only fair to tell him that the original point of the caning no longer really applies. Now it’s just because he wants it, and I want to do it to him.”

Tony nods slowly, his expression thoughtful. He reaches for Bruce as if by instinct, and Bruce leans into him gratefully. “I’ll tell him,” Tony says. “Coulson, why don’t you get Bruce settled however he wants to be settled, and I’ll take Steve aside.”

Coulson nods and closes a hand around Bruce’s upper arm. Bruce forces himself to stop leaning into Tony and straightens. “Let’s get you something to drink,” Coulson says, and then turns Bruce so that he can look into Bruce’s face. “Without some bloodletting,” he starts, and then shakes his head and gives Bruce a small smile. “No, even when I have let blood, I’ve never had better, Bruce.”

“Neither have I,” Bruce says sincerely, and lets himself lean slightly into Coulson. “Thank you, sir.” Coulson slides a hand into Bruce’s hair and pulls his face into the bend of his neck, his lips brushing against Bruce’s brow and then his temple, and Bruce realizes without that much surprise that Coulson is steady for him, now. Bruce had suspected he could be, before the caning, but it’s a warm rush of pleasure to know now for sure. _Two down,_ Bruce thinks, and then lets his head swim a little with the smell of exertion on Coulson’s skin, and keeps himself from licking Coulson’s neck only for a few seconds, he doesn’t have it in him to resist anything right now, and he runs his tongue along the big tendon in Coulson’s throat, tasting the clean sweat on his skin and feeling Coulson’s hand tighten in his hair and hold him steady, not pulling away, but just holding, until Bruce is just lapping at the skin he can reach and tasting Coulson’s sweat and letting his head swim with the taste of him. Coulson lets Bruce lick him until Bruce seems to be able to stop on his own, just resting his cheek against Coulson’s shoulder and breathing hard.

Coulson holds him for another long moment -- Tony has taken Steve across the room and is talking to him in a low voice, Steve still on his knees, Tony down on one knee to make his face be on level with Steve’s -- then lets his hand trail down Bruce’s back slowly, but not especially gently, fingers dragging a little along Bruce’s skin, and he only smiles when Bruce shudders. “What do you want to drink?” Coulson asks him. 

“Juice of some kind if we have it. Otherwise water,” Bruce says. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Coulson says. “Where do you want to be right now?” Coulson doesn’t look at the other three members of the team that are in the room, but Bruce can see them at the edge of his vision, and they are all looking at him.

He wants to be at Tony’s feet, but since that’s not a possibility, he says slowly, flushing only a little, “At their feet, please.”

Coulson guides him over the Natasha, Clint, and Thor with a hand at the small of his back, resting on that smooth skin he’d skipped over with the cane, and tells them, “I’m going to go get him something to drink. He wants to be at your feet. I don’t have to tell you that you still can’t touch him without his permission, do I?”

“We would never presume,” Natasha says, and Thor and Clint both nod. Bruce drops to his knees, considers sitting back on his heels,and then realizes how sore the backs of his thighs are. He levers himself forward onto his belly instead, and lies there curled partly on one side, one arm crooked beneath his head to pillow it. He’s aware of the three of them paying attention almost exclusively to him, but isn’t sure what to say. He finally settles for, “How does it look?”

“Like you won’t be sleeping on it for a few days,” Natasha says seriously. “How does it feel.”

“Like it should be bloody,” Bruce says honestly. “He’s really good. If he can teach Tony to be even close to that good, I’ll be grateful.”

“If Tony knows you want him to learn it, I doubt not that he will apply himself fully to the learning,” Thor says.

“No kidding,” Clint says. “Tony will probably do almost anything to make you do that for him like you did it for Phil. Did you come in the harness. It was a little hard to make out from this far back, but it looked like you did.”

“I did. I didn’t know I’d be able to,” Bruce says. “But I couldn’t help it.”

“That’s certainly the way to Coulson’s heart,” Natasha says thoughtfully. “He likes a sub that can come without being touched. I’m guessing he especially likes one that will come while he’s hurting them without being touched. I don’t know that for a fact, no first hand knowledge. But I’d be willing to bet.”

“I think most of these will probably bruise,” Clint says. “Definitely the ones he landed across the ones he’d already put down. The welts are impressive as hell.”

Steve and Tony return to the little sitting area, Steve still on his knees. As soon as he stops he says, “Can I see?”

Bruce thinks about just rolling over on his belly, but then doesn’t. He’s pretty sure Steve wants to see in a more up close and personal way. He levers himself carefully up off the floor and then turns around so Steve can see all of his back. “You can touch them,” Bruce offers, because he’s not sure Steve will ask.

Steve’s fingertips barely ghost across the marks high up on Bruce’s shoulders for several long moments, and then he lays his whole palm along them, hand flat. Bruce sucks in a breath, but doesn’t object. Slowly, Steve runs his hand down Bruce’s back and down his ass, just once, and not hard, but it’s still enough to make Bruce’s head swim. Tony steps over to stand in front of Bruce, like he just knows, and Bruce leans forward against Tony’s legs, grateful. Steve runs his hand over the leather strap between Bruce’s buttocks, and he gently cups one cheek of Bruce’s extremely sore ass in his hand. His thumb swipes gently from side to side, as though just exploring the texture. It sends sparkling little jolts of pleasure and pain through Bruce’s groin. Bruce moans softly, and Steve’s breath catches in his throat.

“It was good?” Steve asks, the fear all tangled up with uncertain desire in his voice.

“It was _so_ good,” Bruce says softly. “It _is_ so good. It will keep being good for at least two or three days. I won’t be able to sit down to eat and I’ll have to sleep on my belly, but I don’t mind. It’s that good.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Coulson says, smiling as he passes the little sitting area and hands Bruce a glass of juice with a straw in in.

“Thank you,” Bruce says, and drinks, but slowly, because Steve still has his hand on Bruce’s ass. Steve pulls his hand back, but then lays it on Bruce’s back again, like he can’t quite help himself. Natasha takes the glass of juice out of Bruce’s hand, and he lets her. He closes his eyes and lets Steve slowly stroke across his back again, his hand warm and gentle, but even gentle is hard as marked up as Bruce is. But it’s good, too, and Bruce would let Steve do a lot more if Steve needs to for it to feel okay for him, in his head. But Steve finally lets his hand fall away and says, “I’m ready,” and Bruce opens his eyes and turns to look at him, letting Steve see the easiness in his mind on his face, in his eyes. 

Steve looks at him for a few long seconds, and then nods, looking up at Coulson, and then at Tony. “I’m ready,” he repeats, and turns to look at the cross. Bruce notes that he’s still hard when he turns, but he isn’t sure if Steve had been hard the whole time, or if he’s hard again. He’s also pretty sure Steve doesn’t have the ability to come without being touched that Bruce does, or at least, Bruce has never seen him do it, and it’s not a common thing to be able to do. He wonders how Tony and Coulson are going to work around that, and then turns back to Natasha to take his juice back because he’s still thirsty. For not having really screamed at all this time, Bruce is still just as thirsty as he always seems to be after. When he drains it, Thor takes it from him and sets it on the table, which hadn’t been moved from its original position like the rest of the furniture had been. Then he gestures broadly toward the floor, as though offering, and Bruce smiles a little, but settles back down at their feet, again mostly on his side, one arm folded to pillow his head.

Steve has climbed to his feet and has his arms up along the beams of the cross, and Tony is changing the lengths of the chains there to suit him. Coulson nudges Steve slowly forward so that he’s leaning into the cross, and Bruce sees Steve’s shoulders tighten, but he doesn’t resist. Tony closes a manacle around one wrist, and bends to do the ankle on the same side. Coulson closes the manacle around the other wrist, and Steve’s shoulders tighten even further, but he doesn’t make a sound. Tony gets that ankle, since he’s already on the floor.

“We’ll want a belt,” Coulson says, his hand already working across Steve’s back, measuring muscle and the ridges of bone, so that he knows where to hit and where to avoid. Tony nods and steps to one side of the drapes and pulls a wide leather belt out from behind one of them, like it had been hanging there the whole time. Tony hooks it to the front of the cross, and then wraps it around Steve’s waist. It has two wide buckles, and once they are done, Steve looks pretty solidly bound down.

“Why do I have to have a belt?” Steve wants to know, his voice only a little unsteady. 

“Because we don’t know yet if you’ll be able to keep your knees from folding up on you when you’re in the middle of a beating,” Coulson says. “If you don’t have any problems, we’ll know for next time. If you fall, without the belt, all your weight comes to rest on your wrists, and you could get hurt.”

“Oh,” Steve says softly, and then looks up at his cuffed right hand and then to the left. He twists his wrists a little, finds them more or less immovable, and some of the tension leaves his shoulders. He shifts his legs, tugging at the chains a little, and then takes a deep breath. Most of the rest of the tension bleeds from his shoulders.

“Steve, what is your safeword?” Coulson asks seriously.

“Ice,” Steve says immediately.

“Do you understand when you should use it?” Coulson asks.

“If it hurts more than I can deal with or if it is in some other way bad for me,” Steve says. He sounds a little calmer just saying it aloud.

Bruce approves, in the limited way in which he can approve or disapprove of anything, given his own headspace.

“Good,” Coulson says, and leans in and kisses him, not hard or soft, but somewhere in the middle, as though the two of them kiss often, which they probably do, of course, and they’re both familiar with what any given kind of kiss means. Coulson walks over to the table and recovers the cane. Bruce isn’t even sure how it ended up there. “I’m going to tell you what I’m going to do before I do it. I didn’t tell Bruce because he’s an experienced sub, and he’s been caned before. I’m telling you, because when something is new and you’re not sure about it, it’s good to have goals.”

“You’re really worried about this,” Steve says, like he’s genuinely surprised to find out that Coulson is worried.

“Aren’t you?” Coulson asks.

“No, not really,” Steve says. “I’m afraid, but I’m not really worried. I know you won’t ever really let me get hurt, and that Tony won’t let me get hurt. I know you didn’t hurt Bruce. Or, you did hurt Bruce, but no more than Bruce wanted. I trust you both.”

Coulson looks a little surprised, but Tony is smiling a little. “I’m still going to tell you, so you’ll know what’s going on,” Coulson finally says. “If it turns out that you don’t need me to tell you, or want me to stop telling you, then you can let me know.”

“Okay,” Steve says, and stands there, watching Coulson expectantly. 

“I’m going to give you ten across your back,” Coulson says, and Bruce gets to see him take up a striking stance, weight balanced a little forward on one leg, arm pulled back. The first blow jerks a startled sound out of Steve, and even from this far away, Bruce sees his eyes go wide in the mirror. Coulson strikes again, and Steve lets out another sound, less startlement, more pain this time, but he doesn’t tense up, not even the little bit that Bruce had at first. He tips his head forward a little, like he doesn’t want to see himself in the mirror, and gives a helpless, hard little shout on the third blow. Bruce sees that his hands are clenching and unclenching above the cuffs, and hopes that Tony or Coulson are noticing that. He can also see that Steve is losing his erection, and hopes that Tony is noticing that. At the fourth blow, Steve jerks out a low, harsh cry that sounds a little like it might be mixed with tears, and on the fifth blow he just lets out a choked little sob. 

Tony drops to his knees between the mirror and the cross and takes Steve into his mouth like he’s done it a hundred times before, and this time it just happens to be while he’s taking a beating. Bruce smiles a little, and Steve lets out a soft, surprised little moan, and then Coulson hits him again, and Steve cries out, but softly, and there are definitely tear sounds involved in the noise. Steve’s hands are clenched into fists. Tony is using his hand around the base of Steve’s cock and his mouth around the rest of it. When Coulson hits him again, Steve’s sound is a mix of too many things to easily decipher, and it’s the same on the next blow. He sounds like he’s crying, and each strike jerks a harsh little pain sound from him, but he sounds like he’s moaning a little, too. The last two blows, Coulson lays down one right after the other, breaking the pain sound Steve makes into a harsh sound that ends with an actual cry of pain.

“That’s ten,” Coulson says softly. Steve’s shoulders are shaking slightly, and his breathing is thick and heavy, but he doesn’t object or say anything at all when Coulson announces it, and doesn’t say anything when Tony stops sucking him and stands up to kiss him, though he does make a soft, surprised sound. His cock is hard and red, and Bruce is still sure about Steve, still sure he has the capacity to respond. “I want you to take ten more, Steve,” Coulson says, voice low and hot, and Steve raises his head a little, like he’s surprised at the way Coulson sounds, and wants to see what expression is on his face. Whatever he sees makes him do one of those familiar tremors that Bruce has seen from him before, a single long motion from head to toe, but only once. Steve blinks at Coulson in the mirror, staring as though transfixed, and Bruce watches his eyes widen as Coulson draws back to swing. The sound of the blow is loud, the sound of Steve’s cry is loud, but he doesn’t lower his head back down. He keeps looking at Coulson. Coulson draws back to strike again, and Steve’s mouth falls a little open before the blow even lands, and the pain sound sort of tumbles from his open mouth in a jumble. He still doesn’t look away from Coulson. Bruce kind of wishes he’d thought to watch Coulson in the mirror while _he_ was on the cross. Whatever it is Steve sees, it has his full attention. Coulson slices at Steve’s back with the cane three times in quick succession, which draws a rising series of sounds from Steve that culminates in another of those soft, helpless sounding sobs. Bruce can see that there are tears on Steve’s face, but that he’s still watching Coulson as though he can’t look away. Tony is standing over to one side of the cross, watching Steve’s cock and Steve’s face in about equal measures. Steve hasn’t gone soft again. Coulson snaps the cane against Steve’s back four times this time, and this time Steve doesn’t cry out until Coulson stops hitting him, though his mouth is open the whole time, as though he’s silently crying out, and then when he does cry out it’s low and hoarse and his breathing has gone ragged and harsh.

“That was ten,” Coulson says, and then looks up and apparently meets Steve’s gaze in the mirror, because he freezes for a long moment, and Bruce can only see a little bit of Coulson’s face in the mirror, most of it is blocked by Steve and the cross, but he gets the impression that Coulson’s eyes are a little wide. Then Coulson is circling around the cross taking large, fast steps, and he shoves the cane at Tony, who takes it as though he’d been expecting it, and takes Steve’s face in his hands and kisses him roughly, kisses him like he’d kissed Bruce, ravenously, and with all of that focus and dominance pressed into it. Steve’s head rocks back and he whimpers into Coulson’s mouth. His hands go completely limp above the cuffs and it seems like the belt was a good idea, because for a few seconds Steve’s knees aren’t holding him up, just the belt is holding him up, though it’s only a few seconds. Coulson stops kissing him, and only a moment later, Steve dazedly gets his feet under him. “Ten across the ass,” Coulson murmurs, almost murmuring it right into Steve’s mouth, and Steve just nods slowly, as though he might agree to anything.

Coulson takes the cane back from Tony, and circles around the cross again. Steve keeps his head up, keeps his eyes focused on Coulson, and Coulson seems to hold Steve’s gaze all the way up until he draws back to swing.

This time, Coulson doesn’t stop between any of the blows. His arms snaps them out quick, one right after the other, not as hard as he’d hit Bruce, but still sharp enough to make Steve cry out, his cry just going louder and longer the further into the set of ten Coulson goes, and when it’s over, Steve is crying again, but his cock is still hard and red in the mirror. Coulson hands the cane off to Tony again and runs his hands down Steve’s back; Steve arches, his breath gasping out in one loud rush, and then Coulson cups Steve’s ass, and Steve groans, low and loud, and definitely with some degree of pleasure.

Bruce feels a jolt of pleasure at being right, as much for Steve’s sake as for his own, and shifts slightly so that all the welts on his back wake up and begin to burn at the motion. He lets himself luxuriate in his own pain while Coulson feels Steve up, and then Coulson is murmuring, “Ten more for me, Steve, can you take ten more?”

“Yesss,” Steve half-groans and half-hisses, as though he doesn’t know whether it will be good or bad, and his face is dazed in the mirror, his expression almost lost. Coulson bites at the back of Steve’s neck and Steve hitches in breath, but he lets his head drop forward, giving Coulson access.

“Good boy, Steve,” Coulson says, low and gruff and almost directly in Steve’s ear, and Steve goes through another of those solitary full body tremors. He’s making a very soft sound, almost whining softly, and Bruce looks up and sees that all three of his other team mates are leaning forward, their attention just as fixed on the interaction between Steve and Coulson as Bruce’s has been. Tony is watching Steve and Coulson carefully, his expression thoughtful, no, more like plotful, like he’s planning something regarding the two of them that they are completely unaware of, which would, of course, be just like something Tony would do.

Coulson reaches almost blindly for the cane again, and Tony presses it into his seeking hand, and he draws back from Steve, already poised to strike. Steve lifts his head to watch, and Coulson pauses for a moment, and then swings. The sound is a loud snap, and Steve’s eyes go wide and he shouts out in both surprise and pain, and then Coulson is swinging through each strike rapidly again, as though he’s got something else he needs to be doing, and he has to get through the last nine blows before he can do it. Steve cries out at every one, and actually screams out at the last two, but he doesn’t go soft and he doesn’t tear his eyes away from Coulson, who passes the cane off to Tony immediately and moves in to cup Steve’s ass in both hands.

“Please, Phil,” Steve says, half weeping, and Coulson turns to Tony, his expression dark and demanding, and Tony merely hands Coulson a bottle of lube, and turns away, gathering the team up with his eyes -- they all get to their feet at once, Tony’s dominance enough to clear the room -- and gathering Bruce up more gently, his hands carefully around his forearms as he helps Bruce up to his knees and then to his feet. He presses them all out of the room with his mere presence, but before they are out the tube of lube clicks open and a moment later Steve cries out sharply. Then Tony is closing the door, and looking at all of them with serious eyes.

“I don’t think either of them expected exactly that to happen,” he says. “I certainly didn’t see it coming until fairly close to the moment it did. Who wants a drink?”

“Think you that they would have objected, had we stayed?” Thor asks, and Natasha takes his hand and pats it as if it were a puppy.

“They wouldn’t have thought to object until it was all over, but it’s better for them that they be alone this time,” she says, still patting his hand. “I’m sure you’ll get a chance to watch Coulson fuck Steve another time.”

“Upon the cross?” Thor wants to know.

“Or on some kind of setup similar to that,” she assures him.

Tony has moved behind the bar and is mixing drinks with quick competence. “Nat,” he says, and hands her something clear on ice, and then a moment later, “Thor,” and Thor goes to claim something amber and without ice. Clint walks up to bar and waits, and after a few seconds, Tony hands him something brown in a tall glass with a lemon wedge gripping the edge of the glass. “Bruce,” Tony says last, but Bruce goes to get his drink, largely okay with whatever it will be, but finds it’s just a whisky sour, and smiles at Tony a little, and Tony smiles back. Bruce watches Tony makes his own drink, a gin and tonic with a wedge of lime tossed into the glass. He takes his drink down into the sitting area, and they all trail after him in silence.

Bruce settles down on his knees, but not back on his heels, and leans a little against Tony’s legs. Tony reaches out and brushes his hair off of his face, and then wipes at Bruce’s cheeks gently, probably erasing the signs of his tears.

“What exactly just happened?” Clint asks. “I mean, I know what happened, I saw it, but I’m not sure I get it.”

“That was Steve responding to the caning because of the way that Coulson looked while he was giving it. Taking the pain because he could see that Coulson wanted to give it, and accepting it enough to draw him into it just from that,” Natasha says. “He may never like big pain the way Bruce does, but he likes the way Coulson looks when he’s hitting Steve. He gets off on Coulson getting off on it.” She looks at Bruce. “Are you disappointed not to have gotten to fuck Steve?”

Bruce shrugs, and then winces, which makes her smile faintly. “No, not really. There was always the chance that Steve wouldn’t have been up for it after a caning anyway, and I came twice. I’m glad for Steve, and I’m glad for Coulson. Did you see Steve’s face? He was enthralled. I’m glad he got to have that.” He grins a little. “Besides, I’ll still get to fuck Steve. Just not today. And I came twice. I can’t complain.” 

Tony tugs Bruce toward him with his hand on one shoulder and then leans forward and runs one hand lightly down Bruce’s back. Bruce shivers, his head still swimming with pain and desire, and leans into Tony to make it easier for him. “I didn’t get to touch it, before,” he says softly, and brushes a kiss across Bruce’s cheekbone. “I can’t believe he didn’t break the skin on any of these.”

“Coulson doesn’t do anything in public that he isn’t sure he can do perfectly,” Natasha says, sounding amused and aroused at the same time. “I’d like to touch them, too, Bruce, if you feel okay with that.”

Tony arches his brow and Bruce nods and offers Tony his drink. Tony takes it for him and sets it on an end table. Bruce knee walks over to Natasha, fixing his gaze on her face because moving with the welts drawn tightly across his skin is dazzling, is enough to set his mind to spinning if he doesn’t concentrate on what he’s doing. She has given Clint her glass to hold, and when Bruce gets to her she cups his face gently, and then slides her hand down to his shoulder to press against it and make him turn.

“They certainly are pretty,” she breathes, and slides both hands gently down his back from his shoulders to his waist, her touch extremely delicate, but still enough to make Bruce suck in a hard breath and tremble under her hands. “And you were gorgeous, taking it,” she tells Bruce, he tone soft and almost confidential, as though she’s telling him a secret, even though Bruce is sure that everyone can hear her. It doesn’t matter, the tone and the words are enough to set Bruce to shivering even harder as she gently plays her hands across the welts, just sliding lightly over one, and then dragging across another, so that Bruce’s visions swims a little, and he feels a little unsteady on his knees. Eventually, she slips her hand to his lower back and that line of untouched skin that Coulson had left there, and turns Bruce back toward her. “Thank you, Bruce,” she says. Bruce nods unsteadily, and she pulls gently at him, so that he leans forward against her legs. Her eyes seem huge in her delicate face, and are so full of desire and admiration that Bruce feels himself trying to get hard in the harness again, and still cannot do it, of course. She strokes just her fingertips along the line of his jaw, and then leans forward, offering her lips, but doesn’t close the distance, close, but letting Bruce decide whether or not to take the offer. Bruce has the urge to look to Tony for permission, but it passes fairly quickly. Tony had been perfectly clear that Bruce was allowed to do whatever he felt like he could do. He leans into her mouth, and she immediately bites gently at his lower lip. He gasps a little, and she slides her tongue between his lips, slipping it against his own tongue so that he responds almost without thinking about it, and then they are kissing, gently, carefully, but without leaving Bruce any question that Natasha would like to do more than merely kiss him. She pulls back slowly, giving his lower lip on last little lick, and her eyes are gentle when she looks at him. “You’re so sweet,” she says, and brushes his hair back away from his brow. “You’re almost as sweet as Steve, but without his delicacy. If I were going to have you, I could do so many things to you that I couldn’t do to Steve.” She strokes his hair back again and presses her lips to his temple. “Go back to Tony,” she tells him. “He’s looking a little possessive at the moment, not that I blame him.” Bruce smiles at her, seeing her through the haze of his submission, and he can almost imagine what it would be like to let her have him. He’s sure it would be good. But he turns away and crawls back to Tony, his whole body aching, his skin smarting and burning, and leans heavily against Tony’s legs.

Tony offers him his drink back, and Bruce takes it, the taste of it tart and good in his mouth, warm in his throat and belly.

“Not now,” Clint says, “because Nat is right, Tony is looking a little possessive right now, but before it heals up, I’d like to feel it, too.” Clint doesn’t look worried about it, though his eyes are glittering a little as he looks at Bruce. 

“As would I,” Thor adds, and tips his head back and drains his glass at a swallow. “Very much.”

“When it’s okay with Tony, it’s okay with me,” Bruce says, and means it; it comes easily, almost naturally.

“Maybe after Coulson and Steve clear out of the bedroom and I can spend a few minutes alone with his mouth on me,” Tony says, voice a little rough. Bruce’s mind rolls a little at the idea of having Tony in his mouth and his cock presses up against the inside of the cage. He leans harder into Tony’s legs, half ready to volunteer to suck Tony off right now, he’d be willing, the audience doesn’t bother him, but something in Tony’s face makes him decide not to offer. He isn’t sure what it is, except as far as what Natasha had said it had been. Tony looks a little possessive right now, and Bruce isn’t sure he’d want to share what it looks like, to have Bruce taking his cock in any way, just now. Even still, he wedges his way in between Tony’s knees, and Tony looks at him like he knows what Bruce is thinking, but there is a kind of distance in the look, like he knows, but has every intention of making his own decision, and that he won’t do that until he’s ready to do it.

Bruce sees that Tony is hard even now, that being in the middle of two canings had been enough to leave him ready, and Bruce is still swimming deeply in his subspace, deeply enough that a public display wouldn’t bother him. Maybe that’s why Tony isn’t asking. Maybe he thinks that if Bruce weren’t so far down, he wouldn’t be willing to show this much to the others. And maybe Tony is right, but Bruce doesn’t think he is. As long as they don’t touch him, as long as only Tony touches him, Bruce doesn’t think he’d mind even if he wasn’t already sitting at ground zero, as far as his headspace goes.

Then again, maybe it isn’t Bruce that Tony doesn’t want them to see. He had never asked Tony how he feels about exhibition, and had assumed that just because Tony has been with them all, it wouldn’t matter to Tony. But being on display is different, Bruce knows it is. He will remember to ask Tony later, when Bruce’s head is clearer and he can integrate his answer. For the moment, he just tips his cheek against Tony’s thigh and lets himself lie there and enjoy the after effects of his caning. After a few moments, Tony begins to toy with Bruce’s hair, and Bruce is so happy to have Tony’s attention in even such a small way that he sighs out a soft moan and rubs his face against Tony’s leg.

“Damn it, Bruce,” Tony says, sounding exasperated and hungry at the same time. “I’m trying to keep you from being mad at me later. Stop rubbing up against my thigh.”

“But I won’t be mad at you later,” Bruce says truthfully. “You need it. I can tell you need it. You were right in the middle of my caning and then Steve’s, so it’s perfectly natural that you need it. And I’m right here.”

Tony looks at him for a long moment, and then says, “Where are you sitting, Bruce?”

“Still at zero, Tony; I probably will be for a while,” Bruce says. “But I’m still a genius. You can do anything you want to me right now. I don’t mind if they watch as long as they don’t touch me.”

“Bruce,” Tony says, sounding pained. “You aren’t in any state to be deciding that now. If we had talked about it before and you had said it would be okay, that would be different, but right now you don’t have any boundaries.”

“Okay, Tony,” Bruce says, and leans up a little to beg for a kiss, which Tony leans down and gives him at least a little unwillingly, though once Tony’s mouth has captured his, all of Tony’s unwillingness seems to fall away in heat and need, his lips and teeth bruising against Bruce’s pliant mouth. Bruce lets it go on as long as Tony is willing to give it to him, and when Tony pulls back, Bruce pets his knee with the hand he’s not still holding a drink in. “It’s okay,” he says. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Tony laughs harshly, but his hand in Bruce’s hair is still gentle. “It doesn’t have anything to do with what I want to do,” he says seriously. “It has to do with what you might be unhappy about later, Bruce. We haven’t talked about doing anything like this, and I won’t take advantage.”

Bruce thinks they have talked about it, at least a little bit, but he’s not going to argue with his dominant in front of the rest of the team. “Whatever you want, Tony,” Bruce agrees easily, and it’s okay, he can wait if that’s what Tony wants, because he really is down deep, where what Tony wants is far more important to him than what Bruce himself wants. “Can I still lay my head in your lap,” he asks.

Tony plucks the drink out of Bruce’s hand and deposits it on an end table. “Of course you can,” Tony says, and Bruce leans forward over the edge of the couch and slides his face up Tony’s leg until his cheek is resting against the hard warmth of Tony’s thigh, and smiles a little, content, if not perfectly so, because he doesn’t have it in him to want anything more than he’s given right now. “Besides, I can’t get too involved in anything,” Tony says quietly, toying with Bruce’s hair again. “Coulson is going to need me to let Steve down when he’s done with him. The manacles only respond to voice commands from me.”

Bruce thinks briefly that that only makes sense before Tony’s fingers creep from his hair to the top of his back, gently sliding along one of the welts, and then Bruce is beyond thinking about what makes sense, is merely breathing hard with his face pressed tightly against Tony’s thigh while Tony slowly, but deliberately, explores the uppermost part of Bruce’s back with fingers that are very slightly cruel. Bruce’s cock tries to get hard in the cage yet again, and is again thwarted, but this time it makes Bruce feel perilously close to tears. He doesn’t understand why Tony is touching him like this, if he isn’t going to let Bruce touch him in return, take him in, taste his cock, which will taste of sweat and precome pressed into the shaft from being trapped inside the fabric of his jeans for so long. It will be hot and dense with the scent of Tony, and Bruce starts to wonder if he had done something wrong, if he’s being punished, if Tony is somehow mad at him for enjoying the caning as much as he had.

“Tony, are you angry with me, Tony?” Bruce asks, voice choked with tears he’s holding back, and Tony stops prodding at the welts on his back and sits up, taking Bruce by his shoulders and pushing him upright as well, so that they are looking into each others faces. “I didn’t mean to come with the harness on,” Bruce says miserably. “I didn’t know I could. I couldn’t help it.”

“Bruce, I’m not mad at you,” Tony says, and cups Bruce’s cheek with one hand. Bruce presses his cheek against that hand, and Tony lifts his other hand and plunges it into Bruce’s hair, where it makes a fist that tugs slightly, but not really painfully. “Why would you think that?”

“Because,” Bruce says, trying to get a hold on his voice, and only succeeding in part. “You’re touching me, but you won’t let me touch you, and you still haven’t taken the harness off, and I can’t… I can’t get hard for you touching me, so it feels like you’re punishing me for something. Are you mad that I liked it that much, with Coulson doing it?”

“No,” Tony says a little sharply. “No, Bruce, I’m going crazy trying not to put my hands and my mouth all over you, and that is not your fault. I’m not mad at you at all. You were gorgeous and perfect, and I can only hope to learn to use the cane well enough to get you to do that for me as perfectly as you did it for Coulson. I’ll probably always put a harness on you to cane you,” he says, his voice dropping an octave and going dark and edged. “Watching you come without being able to get hard was fucking riveting.” He tugs a little at Bruce’s hair. “I don’t want to be the reason for you losing your headspace after that, Bruce. You sure as hell earned it. If you want to suck me, if you’re sure you want to do that here, I’ll let you.” Tony sounds as if he’s still not certain, but also like he’s made up his mind.

“We can go,” Clint says softly. “Don’t get me wrong, we don’t want to go. We want to see him suck you. But if you’re really worried he’ll wake up tomorrow and be upset that we got to see the show, we can clear out.”

“It doesn’t bother me that they’re here,” Bruce says earnestly. “It more than doesn’t bother me, it… it makes me want to wallow in your body, so that they can see, because it will be good for them. If it’s not good for you, send them away, but please let me touch you, Tony. Please take off the harness and let me finally be able to get hard with your cock in my mouth.” 

Tony presses Bruce backward with his hands on Bruce’s shoulders, and Bruce slides back across the carpet, just moving to wherever he is put because he can’t tell what this means Tony is going to do yet. Tony stands and fishes a tiny key from the pocket of his jeans, and Bruce’s cock jerks against the metal inside the cage as though it recognizes the key and knows that it will be free soon. 

“Can I have Clint take off the harness?” Tony asks, his voice harsh but careful. “I want him to do it after I’m already in your mouth, so you can’t get hard until I’m already giving it to you. It’s Clint, so he’ll probably cop a feel while he’s doing it, Bruce, because Clint always goes right up to the edge of what he’s allowed to do, so think about it.”

Bruce doesn’t think about it, is already nodding, raising up and spreading his knees open so that Clint can get to the harness, and Tony takes a long, deep breath, and then finally gives Bruce a single, slow nod. Bruce’s hands go for the button of Tony’s jeans, and he’s aware of Tony jerking his shirt up over his head and flinging it onto a couch, but he’s concentrating fiercely on getting Tony’s jeans unzipped and then shoved down, and he would have gone for Tony’s cock immediately, except that Tony holds him back gently, one hand on his shoulder, and tugs his jeans the rest of the way off to toss them next to his shirt on he couch. Bruce’s mouth is already watering, and he looks up into Tony’s face, watching and waiting for when Tony says it will be alright, and Tony studies him for several long seconds, his eyes tracking across Bruce’s face, but mostly his gaze locked with Bruce’s gaze, as though he hopes to find answers to some sort of question there. Bruce doubts he will see much in his own eyes aside from the want that Bruce isn’t even trying to hide, which must be on his face just as surely as it is in his eyes, but he waits anyway, and then Tony dangles the little key out in Clint’s direction with one hand and slides his other hand into Bruce’s hair, cupping the back of his head and pulling him forward. Bruce tentatively reaches up between their bodies to rest his hands on Tony’s thighs, and Tony doesn’t object, and Bruce lets himself be pulled forward onto Tony’s cock, his mouth dropping open automatically, dipping his head a little to capture the head between his lips, and Tony squeezes out a long, low sound of want, and Bruce’s breath catches in his throat before he just sinks down the length of Tony’s cock, all the way on the first perfect slide of it, surrounded by the dusky heated male scent of Tony’s cock and tasting the bitter salt of precome pressed into Tony’s shaft, and he arches his back to achieve the right angle to let Tony slide all the way in, and shudders at that instant that cuts off his air, and for a moment he doesn’t move at all, isn’t sure if Tony wants him to move. Tony’s hand is cupped around the back of his head, holding him, but not hard, Bruce could pull back against it if he wanted to, but then Clint’s hands are tugging at the harness between Bruce’s thighs, and Tony pulls back slowly, his hand guiding Bruce back, and then forward again, so that Tony is fucking his mouth in long, slow strokes, and Bruce is groaning a little at Clint’s hands on the harness, how they tug at it and pull the plug tight into him while Clint works to slot the key into the lock. Tony pulls out again, burying his other hand in Bruce’s hair as well now, and slides back between Bruce’s lips in a long, easy slide, not even a twinge as he slides past Bruce’s gag reflex and cuts of his air except for the way that it’s bright in Bruce’s mind, that moment when he suddenly can’t breathe anymore.

Finally, finally, Clint is tugging the plug out of Bruce, and he would have made some sound, some sharp pain noise at the soreness there, but Tony is buried too deeply in his throat for that, and then the cage is being gently tugged away from Bruce’s cock and balls, Clint carefully wrapping his hand, ridged with callouses, around the base of Bruce’s cock to tug it free of the cage, and Bruce feels his cock filling at once, being allowed to fill up, and Tony pulls back enough that Bruce can groan at the feeling, and Clint wraps a hand around Bruce’s cock and gives it a couple of soft, gentle tugs, which just sends jolts of pleasure through his groin and speeds the process, and then Clint is gone, and Tony is pushing back in, deep and a little harder this time, quick enough to make Bruce choke just a little before Tony’s cock slots into his throat, and Tony lets out a rough sound of lust and drags back immediately just to do it again, just to make Bruce choke a little on his cock, as though hearing that sound is good for Tony, the idea of which makes Bruce’s newly free cock jerk and bounce between his thighs, and it had all been going so smoothly that Bruce hard hardly been aware of his back except as a pleasant background ache, but then Tony takes a step back, dragging Bruce forward with him, stretching the skin of his back taut and flinging the awareness of the pain to the very forefront of Bruce’s mind. Bruce shouts in pain without opening his mouth, unwilling to let go of Tony’s cock, but Tony’s grip on his hair wouldn’t have allowed it anyway, and Tony merely lunges forward again, stopping with the head of his cock just bumping against the back of Bruce’s throat so that Bruce chokes, his eyes starting to water, and then pressing forward again so that Bruce’s throat opens up and takes his cock.

“Jesus, Bruce,” Tony says, hot and helpless sounding, and then he is holding Bruce’s face close to his groin, is pumping into Bruce’s throat entirely, never pulling out enough to let Bruce breathe, just stretching the inside of Bruce’s throat with the head of his cock and the first few inches of it, his hips rocking hard and determined, and Bruce can already feel the shuddering in Tony’s thighs, Bruce had known Tony had needed it, needed this, and he is hopelessly thrilled to be able to give it to him. Tony thrusts into his throat another half a dozen times, thighs shuddering beneath Bruce’s hands, which are still only resting lightly against them, just for balance, and then he pulls back, all the way back out of his mouth, and Bruce cries out in dismay at the loss, and would have tried to get it back except Tony has jerked his head back with one hand in his hair and has wrapped the other around his cock and Bruce’s groin twists with need, lust dragging almost every thought out of his mind, and Tony comes across Bruce’s face, spurting across his cheeks and lips and chin before his come is only sliding down the backs of his fingers. As though he knows what Bruce is thinking, Tony lets go of his cock and holds his messy hand out to Bruce, and Bruce licks along the backs of his fingers, chasing every trace of Tony’s flavor from the skin of his hand, before Tony finally tugs his hand free and drops to his knees in front of Bruce. He leans in and licks his own come off of Bruce’s cheek and chin, and breathes, “Good boy, Bruce,” in a throaty whisper before he slashes his mouth down across Bruce’s, prying his lips open with his tongue without even giving Bruce the chance to be cooperative, just taking Bruce this way as surely as he had taken his mouth with his cock, and just as completely. Bruce is dizzy and dazed when Tony finally pulls back, and Bruce drops forward onto his hands, breathing hard, his cock aching, and feeling grateful and happy.

He buries his face against Tony’s hip, and Tony holds him there tightly for several long seconds, breathing hard and fast as he recovers from his orgasm, holding Bruce steady while he does it. Then Tony is urging him down onto the floor on his belly, and Bruce goes without any thought of why, it’s enough that that’s where Tony wants him, and he feels Tony stand and move around him, and then go back to his knees, straddling Bruce’s thighs. He puts both hands on the middle of Bruce’s back and drags his hard, strong fingers down the welts there, and Bruce cries out in pain, but doesn’t move or try to object, and Tony cups his ass in both hands and squeezes, dragging another, harsher pain sound from Bruce’s throat.

“God, what you look like like this,” Tony says harshly, and then traces just a single welt with one finger, which hurts but also feels just lovely at the same time, so that Bruce only moans softly. “I can’t believe how well you took it, Bruce, I can’t believe how good you were, how quiet, just because he asked you to be quiet, and when you came in the harness the first time, I almost felt a little like I was going to grab you and fuck you right there, like I could barely stop myself. You were so good, Bruce, you were a good boy,” Tony tells him, voice still harsh, but admiring, too, and pleased and proud, and it makes Bruce want to pull Tony’s voice around him and cuddle into it. Then Tony drops down and licks at the welts near Bruce’s shoulders, which, again, hurts and is just lovely at once, and Bruce moans in pleasure and encouragement.

He is still licking his way across every welt on Bruce’s back, so that Bruce’s aching cock is rocking a little against the carpet, when Coulson comes out of the bedroom and says, “Tony, how do I let him down?”

Tony lets out a low curse, and then climbs to his feet. “Okay if they touch now, Bruce?” he asks, and Bruce merely lifts his head and nods, looking over his shoulder at Coulson, who is naked and a lot more muscular than Bruce would have guessed he was, and has an urgent look on his face. Tony turns and follows him back into the bedroom, and Bruce looks up at Clint and Thor and Natasha.

“It’s okay,” he says. “You can do whatever you want, it’s okay,” Bruce says.

Clint laughs a little hard and sharp, and says, “Don’t say that, Bruce, I only have so much self control and if you tell me I can do whatever I want, I’m going to end up in a fistfight with Tony because he’ll come back out here to find me fucking you into the floor.” Even as he’s saying it, though, he’s easing to his knees beside Bruce on the carpet, on hand stroking briefly through Bruce’s hair for no reason that Bruce can think of except to give comfort, and the he’s running both hands lightly across the backs of Bruce’s thighs, leaning hard to one side to do it, and Bruce is surprised enough at the location and the intensity of the pain that he cries out, and then jerks out a series of low sounds of pain, one for each welt that Clint touches as he runs his hands up Bruce’s thighs. “He’s right, Bruce, you’re a good boy,” Clint says, and touches his hair gently again, and Bruce hears him get up and move away. “Damn,” he says softly, when he’s sitting down again.

Bruce is going to look up and maybe ask why Clint had said ‘Damn,’ but then Thor is kneeling at his side, his hands are huge, and he seems to know exactly where he wants to put them. He cups Bruce’s ass cheeks in his huge hands, and then strokes a thumb along the crack of Bruce’s ass. Before Bruce even thinks of what he might see, Thor is using the same thumb to pull his ass open, revealing Bruce’s sore hole. Bruce chokes out a sound of pain and humiliation. “You look as though you are sore,” Thor says, low and thoughtful. “Is this what he did to you before the caning, when the two of you disappeared into his sleeping chamber?”

“Yes,” Bruce says, face burning.

“And it is good for you, like this, to be made sore inside as well as out?” Thor asks.

“Yes, it’s good,” Bruce says, still embarrassed, but relaxing now a little, because Thor’s low rumble of a voice is kind of soothing, and he has released the pressure of his thumb that had been holding Bruce open, and is now just stroking his thumbs lightly across the marks on Bruce’s ass.

“I am glad he took you, Bruce,” Thor says. “I feel more certain that you will not flee either from us, or from yourself, now that he has.”

“I don’t want to go,” Bruce says, voice a little ragged, and Thor removes his hands from Bruce’s ass and runs just one large hand down the middle of Bruce’s back so lightly that it only makes Bruce sigh softly.

“Then don’t go,” Thor says, and stands up and returns to the couch he’d been sitting on.

Natasha doesn’t kneel down next to Bruce, maybe because she’d had a chance to touch him before, or maybe because Steve and Coulson come out of Tony’s bedroom, Coulson’s arm curled low around Steve’s back, and Steve walking with extreme care and a very dazed expression on his face. They are both naked, and the don’t come down to the sitting area. Coulson leads Steve directly to the elevator, and Steve doesn’t object at all when Coulson punches in a floor. Steve turns a little, and he sees Bruce lying on the floor. His eyes are still velvet soft, deeper into subspace than Bruce has ever seen him, but he still looks surprised.

“Bruce,” he says uncertainly.

“I’m fine,” Bruce says. “Go let Coulson take care of you for now.”

Steve turns those wide dazed eyes back to Coulson, and Bruce sees how soft Coulson’s face is when he looks at Steve, but he turns to look at Bruce for a moment, too. “You were perfect, Bruce,” he says, his voice a little husky. “You were just perfect.” Then he turns back to Steve, who smiles a little at him, and the elevator doors open, and they both step inside and vanish.

“Too bad,” Clint says. “I wouldn’t have minded getting to have a good look at his marks as well.”

“They’re nowhere near as bad,” Natasha says, and then laughs a little, and says, “Or as good, depending on your perspective,” which makes Bruce look at her and smile. “He was careful, and Steve still needed help to get through it at first. It’s hard to be gentle with a cane, but Phil was as gentle as you can really be with one.” She pauses for a long moment. Then she says, “He wants Steve a lot. I wish I could have seen the look on his face when he saw how Steve was looking at him, during. I’ll bet it was something.”

Tony says, “It’s not nice to sit around and gossip about your friends,” but he sounds amused. “I could see his face. He was completely enthralled, just as enthralled as Steve, when Steve was watching Coulson hurt him. They’ll be a good match if they can stay that interested in one another’s pleasure all the time.”

“So you think it was pleasure for Steve, after that first set?” Clint asks.

“It was pleasure for Steve as soon as he realized how much pleasure Coulson was getting from it,” Tony says. “They might not end up doing the cane thing again, because I genuinely think a lower level of pain will give Steve pleasure apart from just the pleasure his dominant is getting better than the cane will, but yeah. I think Steve faltered at first when he realized how badly it was really going to hurt, and had to be handled to get through it, and then I think he realized how much Coulson was really getting from it, and the pain became less important.”

Tony sits down on the floor next to Bruce. “Did he let you all touch him?” Tony asks, clearly not actually talking to Bruce, so Bruce feels content to just lie there beside Tony on his belly and feel battered and brutalized and fantastic.

“Indeed,” Thor says. “He was most accommodating.”

“Good. And did you get what you wanted from it,” he asks, and tugs at Bruce’s hair, maybe in case Bruce didn’t realize he was talking to him.

“Yes, Tony. They were all very nice.”

Tony snorts. “That’s because they all want something from you,” Tony says, sounding amused. “Once you give it to them, they’ll go back to being pains in the ass.”

Bruce chuckles a little. “I think you’re the only one that thinks anyone is a pain in the ass, Tony,” he says.

“Whose sub are you, anyway,” Tony asks, looking down at Bruce and arching both brows. “You’re supposed to come down on my side.”

Bruce considers this. “Okay, Clint could maybe be a little bit of a pain in the ass, I’m betting,” he says.

“Hey!” Clint objects, but he’s grinning.

“Coulson gave me strict instructions on how to handle the aftermath of a caning,” Tony says. “I’m supposed to oil him right away. So if you can all amuse yourselves for a while, I’m going to take my sub away and probably make him cry.”

Pleasant shivers of nerves travel up Bruce’s back at that idea of having Tony oil him right now, but Tony gets up, nudging him in the arm a little, and stands, hands stretched down to help Bruce get to his knees, and then his feet.

“We’ll make do,” Natasha says, and glances at her watch. “We’ve still got a couple of hours before the rest of the ladies get back. We can figure out what to do between the three of us.” Her grin is hard and a little sharp. Clint’s grin is all eager anticipation. Thor is just smiling to himself, like he has no particular designs on anything that might happen.

“Let’s go to Clint’s room, he has all the toys,” Natasha says as they all stand up. 

Bruce wanders away from Tony far enough to pick up his drink and drain the rest of it, letting it both soothe and warm his throat.

“Do you need another?” Tony asks, after the other three have all gotten into the elevator together.

“Better stick with juice or water,” Bruce says.

“I have three kinds of juice,” Tony says, smiling.

“I liked whatever Coulson brought me earlier. It was orange and tasted a little like peaches,” Bruce volunteers. 

“I can manage that. Are you stalling, Bruce?” Tony mostly looks amused, so Bruce tells him the truth.

“I want to come. I want to come with someone touching me. The spontaneous orgasms are great, and I’m glad that’s one of the things that my body does without consulting my brain on it, but it’s different to have somebody touching me when I come,” Bruce admits, looking a little to one side in his embarrassment. 

Tony catches his chin and turns Bruce’s face toward him. “I can see that. I’ve only come without hands a handful of times, but I know there is a difference. I’m happy to give you a very hands on orgasm. Do you want it before, during, or after your oiling?” Tony is smirking like he knows the answer.

“During,” Bruce says, face hot, but also smiling a little just because Tony is smiling at him.

“Go lay down on the table. I’ll bring you a glass of juice and be right in,” Tony says, and presses his hand to the unmarked patch of skin at Bruce’s lower back. “Make sure to pick out a scent you like. Although I do also have a lotion that might help a little. It’s got a numbing agent in it.”

“No, thank you,” Bruce says, and Tony smiles again.

“Going to hang on to every painful second of it?” he asks.

“If it’s alright with you,” Bruce says.

“Oh, it is. It definitely is, Bruce.”


End file.
